


The Rabbit in the Hat

by poppyfields13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe–1940s, Battle Scene, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky/OCs, Canon Divergence, Disability, Emetophobia trigger, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar, M/M, PTSD, Period Typical Ableism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Roommates, Skinny Steve Rogers, Smoking, WWII, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields13/pseuds/poppyfields13
Summary: What if Bucky doesn’t meet Steve until the night before he leaves for the war?Bucky didn’t think he would ever see Steve again, after their one night together. But when he returns from the war, injured and struggling to readjust, he advertises for a roommate, and is surprised when Steve is the one to answer. Bucky realises he wants more than just friendship from Steve, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready, or if Steve even feels the same way about him.





	The Rabbit in the Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Stucky Library](https://thestuckylibrary-bigbang.tumblr.com/) 2017 Big Bang.
> 
> A big thank you to [tinzelda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda) for betaing for me! And thank you to [kikis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kikis/pseuds/kikis) and [ewburnthatshit](http://ewburnthatshit.tumblr.com/) for providing the artwork!

“You’re a swell dancer, Bucky!” Molly said as he led her off the dance floor for a drink. He smiled at her, but glanced over her shoulder at the man he had noticed watching him. The man looked away. It had been brief, but somehow unnerving. The man had looked at him in a way he was only familiar with from the girls he dated. He knew he’d only picked up on it because he often worried he would be caught looking at other men like that too.

He nodded as Molly talked to him, though he couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. He glanced back to where the man had been standing, but he was gone. Bucky looked further around the room but couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Bucky?”

“Huh?”

“Are you all right?” Molly asked.

He smiled. “I’m sorry, I’ve been distracted, haven’t I?”

She giggled. “A little.”

“Perhaps it’s time I take you home.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“It’s just that, I have to be up early…”

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, as if suddenly understanding something, and Bucky knew she’d taken it in a way he hadn’t intended. “Let’s get our coats then.”

They collected their coats and headed out into the frosty air. Molly hailed a cab and when it pulled over Bucky held the door open for her. But he didn’t get in after her. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, looking up at him with bold blue eyes.

A part of him really wanted to go with her. But there was something else he was drawn to do instead, before it was too late. He picked up her hand and kissed it sweetly. “I better get some sleep,” he said. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.” Then he shut the door. Through the car window he could see she was hurt and he didn’t blame her. He stood regretting his decision as he watched the cab drive off, and even a few minutes after it was out of sight. 

When he saw another cab approaching he stuck his hand out. The cabbie raised his eyebrow when Bucky directed him to where he wanted to go, but said nothing. When Bucky had signed up for the army, he’d been just as excited to kill some Nazis as the other young men around him. Now he was terrified. He’d made a mistake. He didn’t want to go to war. But he didn’t have a choice either. He figured he was probably going to die anyway, so on his last night, he wanted to do something reckless. Something he’d been thinking about more and more as his departure date loomed closer. And he wanted to forget about what could happen to him later. 

It was only a fifteen minute drive at that time of night, to an area no one else wanted to go. When they arrived, he paid the cabbie and quickly shuffled out of the car. He walked away so as to look like he knew exactly where he was going, when in reality he’d only heard the vaguest of rumours. But after walking for a few minutes, he heard the tell-tale signs of a bar. Loud voices, laughter, tinkling glasses. When he saw two men emerge from from a door, he knew where to go. 

He’d never tried anything like this before because he genuinely liked women, and he thought he could just ignore the other part of him. But for just as long as he’d been interested in women, he’d been interested in men too. He wanted to at least try being with a man. Just once. He was going to let himself have this. But as he walked towards the door he started to panic. When he opened the door he saw a flight of narrow stairs that led down into a room he couldn’t see and his nerve wavered even more. He stepped down anyway, and foot continued to follow the other down the creaky stairs. 

He emerged into a large room with a bar in the middle where men were standing around chatting. There were small round tables dotted around the room, though only a few people were sitting at them, including some women, Bucky was surprised to see. The room had only a few lights, so while some places were bright, others were shadowy. 

He noticed a few men turn their heads to study him as he strode up to the bar. He acted like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he’d been there a million times, but inside he was trembling. He realised he probably shouldn’t have gone there in his uniform—he’d worn it to show off to Molly—but it was too late now. He grinned widely at the barman and ordered a whiskey. Only when the barman handed him his drink, turned to help someone else, and Bucky had taken a sip, did he glance at the row of men alongside him. 

Some of them were watching him and smiled when his eyes fell on them, but his sight continued on until he locked eyes with a man sitting right at the end of the bar. The man quickly looked away. Bucky studied him, because he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away. He lost any interest he had in looking at anyone else in the room. The man had a slight build and fair hair. He had turned to talk to the person beside him, which offered Bucky the opportunity to really look at his face. He had masculine features and the shadow of a beard around his mouth, which seemed incongruous with the way his ears stuck out just a little, making him look younger than he probably was. He nodded as the person beside him spoke, and smiled crookedly as he took a sip from his glass. 

Bucky knew he was the one he wanted, but he had no idea how he was going to approach him. Perhaps the person he was talking to was already his lover? Or his lover for that night at least. He’d used all his courage just getting to that point, he didn’t want to have to compete. Just as he was deciding he should look elsewhere, the man’s friend turned to look at Bucky, then he turned back to the fair haired man and nudged his arm. The man looked up and caught Bucky looking once again. The man’s friend gave Bucky a pointed look and walked away from the man with a wave, leaving a space wide open beside him. 

Bucky hesitated for a moment, and the man’s face fell a little. He looked down into his drink. That was enough to spur Bucky into action, and he walked over. He wanted to lean confidently against the bar when he approached and introduce himself like he had a hundred times before, but all of a sudden he felt frozen. He just stood beside the man and stared. The man turned to him. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Bucky replied, though he was alarmed to hear a croakiness in his voice he usually only had in the early morning after just waking up. He cleared it with a cough. 

“I’m Steve.”

“Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” He held his hand out and Bucky took it. He liked that for such a small guy, Steve’s hand shake was anything but weak. Up close, Bucky could see the flush on Steve’s cheeks. He smiled coyly, but his blue eyes remained a little sad. Bucky wondered if his own eyes were like that. If everyone in that room had a little sadness in their eyes. 

“Can I buy you another drink?” Bucky asked, before realising Steve’s beer was still practically untouched.

“I’m good, thanks. How about you? What’re you having?”

“Uh, whiskey?” He’d already downed the one he had.

Steve indicated to the barman he wanted to order a drink. Bucky noticed he didn’t come over straight away as he had with Bucky. “One whiskey please,” Steve said. 

Bucky reached for his wallet but Steve waived his hand away. “I’ve got it.”

He’d never had anyone buy him a drink before. It made him smile. When the barman handed him his whiskey, he clinked it against Steve’s beer and said, “Cheers.” He took a sip before asking, “Uh, the man you were with?”

“He’s just a friend.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Good.” Steve smiled back at him and he started to relax. He leaned close to Steve. “I’ve always wanted to come to one of these places, but this is my first time,” he admitted.

Steve looked surprised. “You don’t seem nervous at all. I was. The first time I came here.”

art by [ewburnthatshit](http://ewburnthatshit.tumblr.com/)

“I’m trying not to show it,” Bucky said in a confidential tone, leaning close again. Despite the smoky atmosphere, he was sure he could smell soap. Steve looked straight into his eyes, much closer now, then looked away again. He took a big swig of his drink. Bucky did too. “Thanks for the drink.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“For you, serving our country.”

“Oh.” He’d almost forgotten about that. The pleasant fluttering in his stomach from talking to Steve turned momentarily into something unpleasant. Scared rather than excited. 

“When are you shipping out?” Steve asked.

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

Steve nodded. “I wish I was going with you. I’ve tried, but they keep saying no.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bucky said.

Steve gave him an uncertain look. “Okay. What should we talk about?”

He felt his bravery returning. “Let’s not talk at all. Do you... know somewhere we can go?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Um. My apartment? My roommate is away at boot camp.”

Bucky nodded and downed the rest of his drink. He watched as Steve gulped a few mouthfuls and then set his glass down, still half full. “We can stay while you finish your drink,” Bucky said.

“No. Let’s go.” Bucky followed Steve up the narrow staircase and out into the brisk air. “It’s this way,” Steve said. He walked surprisingly fast. Bucky wondered if he was trying to get Bucky to remain behind him, so he walked a few paces behind, just in case. It was unusual for him, but he couldn’t think of anything they could talk about anyway. Bucky had already made it clear talking wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wasn’t sure how long they had been walking but it felt like an eternity, though eventually they arrived at an apartment building. 

He followed Steve up several floors and stood behind him as he opened the door to his apartment. Inside, it felt almost as cold as it was outside, though at least they were sheltered from the wind. And when Steve turned to Bucky and moved close, he felt hot all over. 

He gestured for Bucky to follow him into a bedroom with two cheerless beds. Then he stood right in front of Bucky and undid the buttons to Bucky’s jacket, and once undone, he pushed it over his shoulders. Bucky was unable to move. He didn’t know what to do. But Steve leaned up to kiss him, and after a moment’s hesitancy, he relaxed, and his lips pressed back with more pressure. 

His jacket came completely off and Steve draped it over the back of a chair. Bucky’s fingers flew up to undo his tie and shirt buttons. Steve was doing the same, then he undid his belt and slacks. So Bucky did too. He stood in his underwear, shivering slightly, waiting for Steve’s next move. Steve’s eyes ran over Bucky’s body, and he reached out to thread his fingers through the hair on Bucky’s chest. Bucky felt his nipples stiffen, not just from the cold air. He tentatively reached out and touched Steve’s smooth chest. His fingers felt warm—although Steve’s skin was cool—as they travelled down, stopping at Steve’s waist. Steve took Bucky’s hand and led him over to the bed, but before he sat down, he said, “Help me pull the bed away from the wall.”

“Why?” Bucky asked. 

“So it doesn’t bang against it.”

“Oh.” His stomach flip-flopped at the promise of that statement. When they had moved the bed, Steve went to one of the dressers and dug around in the bottom drawer. He pulled out a tub of vaseline. The kind Bucky’s ma kept in the medicine cabinet at home. He had the urge to run from the room, but Steve was right there again, pushing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. He pressed the tin into Bucky’s hand.

Bucky gasped and pulled away. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said. “I’ve never done this before.” He hated that there was panic in his voice, but it was there, he could feel it running through his entire body. He was also painfully hard. 

“It’s okay,” Steve said. He kissed him sweetly. Bucky could have believed he always kissed that way—sweet and innocent—if it hadn’t been for the way he’d just had his tongue in Bucky’s mouth. “I’ll teach you.” He pushed his boxers down to his ankles, stepped out of them, and crawled onto the bed. He gave Bucky a furtive glance, as if he’d suddenly become shy. His cheeks were flushed. 

Bucky sat down on the bed beside him. He was nervous. More nervous than he’d ever been. Even more nervous than he was about leaving for the war. But he didn’t want Steve to change his mind either. “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if he actually found a man to go to bed with. What they would do. Use their hands, their mouths? Not this. This was something he’d never even dared to dream of. And the way Steve was offering it was something he never could have anticipated. 

“Put some jelly on your fingers. I…” Steve turned and got down on his elbows, pushing his ass towards Bucky. He didn’t say anything else, but Bucky got the message. He dipped his finger into the tin and put it down beside him. He got onto his knees and moved around awkwardly, holding his slick hand in the air and trying to decide how he was going to do this.

“Okay,” he said, and Steve’s hips moved back an inch. He heard Steve gasp as soon as his fingertip touched Steve’s entrance. “Are you okay?” he asked immediately.

“Keep going,” Steve said. So Bucky pushed the tip in. He pulled it out straight away and massaged it around the tight muscle, but Steve pushed back again. In Bucky went, slowly pushing deeper. It was so warm, he was once again aware of the cool air in the room. He could see the goosebumps that were raised all along his arms. 

Steve made him jump a little when he let out a loud moan. He cut himself off. “Sorry,” he whispered. He put his hand over his mouth. Bucky wondered, could it really feel that good? He pushed in deeper, until he was down to his knuckle, then slowly pulled back out. “Add another one,” Steve said with a muffled voice. 

Bucky did as he was told with shaking hands. He placed his unoccupied hand on Steve’s hip, giving himself more stability. He was even slower with two fingers, certain that it must be hurting Steve, even when Steve moaned in a way that surely meant he enjoyed it. Watching his fingers, two, then three, slowly move in and out of Steve’s body heightened his desire to be inside. His apprehension had subsided and the only thing on his mind was how good it would feel. He couldn’t help but move his hips, pressing his erection against the front of his underwear. Steve begged for his last finger, and Bucky complied greedily. “God,” he said. 

“I’m ready,” Steve said, as he pushed himself onto his hands. “Just… just put some more jelly on yourself.”

Bucky grabbed the tin and dug his fingers in, gathering an excessive amount. He pushed his underwear down. Just running the Vaseline over his throbbing dick was almost too much. He placed his slick fingers on Steve’s hip and with his other hand guided himself towards his hole. Just as the tip of his dick pressed against Steve’s skin, he hesitated. “Are you sure?” Steve hadn’t given any indication that he wasn’t sure. He realised it was the shadow of his own nervousness. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

Steve pulled himself up, so that he was holding onto the bedpost. He turned to look at Bucky over his shoulder. His whole face was pink now, and he was damp around the temples. Bucky thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. He was infinitely glad this man had been at the bar that night. That this man had been the one to take Bucky home with him. “Yes,” he said. 

Bucky gasped as he pushed inside. It felt so good. As much as he wanted to start thrusting straight away, he kept his hips under control, not wanting to hurt Steve, and not wanting it to be over too quickly for himself. When he was finally buried inside, he thought he could come from just this, but he pulled out again, just as slowly as he’d entered. 

He was taken by surprise when Steve pushed back on his dick, urging him to go faster. His grip tightened on Steve’s hip as he pulled out and pushed back in again with more speed. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He moved his hands to Steve’s shoulders where he could get a tight grip and began to vigorously thrust. The sound of their bodies slapping together permeated the room obscenely, and Bucky couldn’t imagine if the bed had been banging against the wall it would be any louder than the noise they were making. But he didn’t care. He was too far gone. He wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips snapped faster and faster, both of them grunting with every thrust. “I’m gonna come,” he gasped into Steve’s ear.

He yelled out as he did, and gripped Steve’s shoulders tight, his own shoulders scrunched up. When he thought it was over his hips jerked again. Then finally he collapsed against Steve’s back. He wasn’t sure if he would ever catch his breath. His hands fell to Steve’s sides and he ran them up and down. His fingers rippled over Steve’s protruding ribs. He felt Steve start to jerk himself, and realised Steve hadn’t come yet. Without hesitation, he reached underneath to place his hand over Steve’s working one. Then Steve was coming too, his body tightening around Bucky’s softening dick. 

He could feel Steve weakening from holding them both up so he pushed back and pulled out. His spunk ran down Steve’s thigh. Steve turned and lay down, right on the wet spot he’d just made, though he didn’t seem to notice. Bucky pulled his underwear up and sat, his leg hanging over the side of the bed like he was poised to sprint from the room. Steve looked at him with drowsy eyes and patted the narrow space beside him. Bucky lay down and stared at the ceiling. He found he couldn’t look at Steve again, though he was hyper aware of every slight move the other man made. For as loud as they’d been during the act, they were silent now. 

He waited until Steve’s breath had evened out before sneaking from the apartment.

♣

It was so loud. He couldn’t think. He didn’t have time to think. He ran as fast as he could. It was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t dodge the gunfire, it came from everywhere and landed randomly. Dirt flew through the air, hitting him, so that every second he thought he’d been struck by a bullet. He had almost reached the tank when a blast to his left sent him flying. He landed heavily on his back and it felt like the side of his body was on fire.

“Medic! Medic!” He heard someone shout, though it was muffled. His ears were ringing. He tried lifting his head but he was so dizzy. Everything was a blur. Someone grabbed him and dragged him through the debris. Over bodies. 

It was only when he looked down to see his arm was gone that he started screaming.

♣

Bucky woke with a start. He knew he’d been crying out. He reached his right hand up to his left shoulder. His arm was still gone. If only the memory was just as impermanent as his limbs. But the war was still with him. That would _always_ be with him.

He lay in bed knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Those moments were always the worst. Before the war, his dreams had never meant anything. They were bizarre stories that a vague part of his unconsciousness knew made no sense, and he would wake up from it, with everything as it should be. Now he just relived his worst memory over and over again. And when he woke, it didn’t fade away into something he forgot about an hour later. He remembered it because it was real.

When he tried to push his thoughts away from the past, they inevitably led to the future, and that wasn’t much better. Because there wasn’t anything there. He wondered if it was because he’d cheated death and the universe had nothing planned for him now. He wasn’t supposed to be there anymore.

A doctor at the VA had told him he was suffering from “combat stress”. Bucky responded, “No shit, Doc. My arm was only blown off my body, for Christ’s sake.” He’d had to visit the VA almost every day the first week he was back at home. He hated it. He’d stopped going now unless he had to collect a cheque. 

His ennui had somewhat subsided, though it wasn’t from his own efforts. His parents had basically employed his sister Rebecca to spend all day, everyday, with him. She wouldn’t let him sleep all day like he wanted to. She had forced him to do things. To leave the house. He knew that must have been a difficult task for her because he did just about everything to resist. But it helped. 

At first he didn’t want to talk about it, and she didn’t press him to talk. As long as he was doing something other than sleeping or sitting on the couch, she let him be. But one day they were taking a walk and some kids set off firecrackers in an alley. Bucky ducked beside a parked car, expecting gunfire. When he finally realised what had happened, with Rebecca crouching beside him rubbing his back and telling him it was okay, he started bawling. She took him home and he finally told her what it had been like.

He no longer wished he hadn’t come home at all. His despair had turned into anger and frustration. He spent a lot of time thinking about whether it was the fault of the United States, or his own eagerness—their unpreparedness—that had caused this to happen to him. Then he blamed the Nazis and the Japanese. He eventually decided it was everyone’s, and somehow no one’s fault. The truth was he was one of the lucky ones. There would be many more injuries and fatalities to come, but he was safe now. No longer whole, but at least safe. Telling himself that helped him get through the days. 

His wound was mostly healed—just angry scarring remained. Bucky had been looking for a job, though his parents never pressured him to. He knew they would be happy for him to stay with them forever, but he wanted to get his life back to normal. As normal as he ever could. He didn’t want to rely on handouts from the VA any more. He couldn’t work in a factory, he knew it would be too fast for him. If they even hired him. He had no interest in making bombs or C-Rations anyway. But he kept looking, hoping something would come up. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his ma said when he walked into the kitchen. She stood up from the table to kiss his cheek. She did that all the time now. He understood why. She was grateful that he was back with her. Not the son he once was, but still her son. He pulled away and she looked hurt. He apologised with his eyes but couldn’t bring himself to say it with his voice. Because if anything, her doting made it all worse. He couldn’t let her know that though. 

After breakfast, he inspected himself in the mirror. After letting himself grow unkempt for months, he’d started shaving again and had been to the barber for a haircut the week before. He refused to wear his uniform, so he wore slacks, a shirt, and a light jacket, as the weather was warming up. He had asked Rebecca to pin his sleeve up for him, even though he thought it looked stupid. He’d tried keeping it hanging, thinking it would make his lack of arm less obvious, but without his anything to fill it, it got in the way.

He could’ve taken a bus to the VA, but he preferred to walk. His schedule wasn’t exactly busy anyway. He smoked several cigarettes as he waited in the long line. One of the first things he taught himself how to do one-handed was light a match. He smoked a lot more now. It gave him something to do and calmed him when he felt anxious. In his head, he went through the ever expanding and changing list of jobs he thought he could look for, then he would never have to come back to the VA. He wasn’t getting enough for him to move out of his parents place anyway.

After he’d collected his cheque and was finally walking away from the VA, a thought popped into his head. He didn’t get enough money from them to live on his own. But maybe he could get a roommate. While he looked for a job anyway. Instead of wandering around looking for work like he usually did, he went looking for an apartment. 

Perhaps he should have looked around a bit more, but once he’d decided on this plan, he felt like he urgently needed to make it happen, so the very first apartment he looked at, he took. It had a living area with a kitchen counter and sink, and a bedroom already furnished with two beds. It didn’t have a bathroom but there was a communal one on each floor. It was clean and affordable—once he had a roommate. But he’d saved up enough money to cover himself for several weeks at least. He was optimistic about finding someone else to live with. He felt so much better as he walked home.

♣

He was moved in within a week, against his mother’s wishes. “You don’t have to do this,” she told him. But he did. It made him feel like he had some control over his life. That not everything was about what had happened to him.

His dad borrowed his uncle Ed’s car and helped him take his boxes of clothes and books down to it. His ma made up boxes of bedding and towels, dishes and cutlery for him. Although she was reluctant for him to leave, she couldn’t stop herself from helping. She insisted on coming with them, no doubt to make sure it was a suitable place for her son to live. While they carried the boxes, she carried up a kidney bean casserole for Bucky to have for his dinner. 

“Hmm,” she said when she walked into the apartment. Bucky and his dad shared a look. She ran her finger along one of the shelves connected to the wall. She made a face at the slightly grey mark the dust left on her skin. She walked into the bedroom. Bucky followed. “Which bed are you going to have?” she asked him.

“The one by the window I guess.”

She walked over and inspected the mattress on Bucky’s bed. “There’s a stain there.”

Bucky peered at it. “You can barely see it, Ma. It’s fine. The apartment’s fine. It’s great, in fact. I like it.”

She sighed. “Promise me you’ll come home if you need to. Or if you can’t find a roommate.”

“I’ll find one.”

“You should interview them first. Make sure you don’t get someone crazy. I’ve heard about people being murdered by their roommates, and then their bodies hidden in the walls.”

“ _Ma_.”

He was relieved when they left. His arm and shoulder ached from carrying too many boxes. He ate some casserole, then put on his robe and went down the hall to shower. His ma had made up his bed for him, which he probably would have resented if he wasn’t so tired. He put his pajamas on, climbed into bed and fell asleep more easily than he had in a long time. 

The next day he walked to the grocery store just a few blocks from the apartment and put up a ‘roommate wanted’ ad on their noticeboard. Then he did his shopping. His happiness about doing his own shopping quickly faded when he realised he had no idea what to buy. He couldn’t even throw things in his basket without having to analyse each item to decide whether he thought he could prepare it one-handed or not. He hadn’t even tried opening a can yet, so he avoided those altogether. He looked at the items in his basket. Bread, peanut butter, eggs, oatmeal, coffee. After wandering around for another five minutes he gave up and purchased those items. Then he went to the greengrocer next door. He picked out things he thought wouldn’t take much preparation: corn, spinach, asparagus. He got some bananas and also selected a few santa rosa plums as the price was good. Then he stared at the potatoes, eventually deciding if peeling them was too difficult, then he could just bake them. But he was going to try it. 

He struggled to fit both grocery bags onto one arm. A woman his mother’s age ran over to him. “Let me help you,” she said. 

“I’m fine,” he said sharply. He felt humiliated. He should be the one helping her with her groceries, not the other way around. He nearly dropped everything in his haste to leave the store but steadied himself. His arm was still sore from the day before and he was certain he was going to spill everything on his walk home but he managed to make it to his apartment door before dumping them with relief in front of it. He was glad he hadn’t been able to decide on anything else to buy or he might not have made it. He dug around in his pocket for his key and once he was inside, he brought each bag in separately, and unloaded them into his bare cupboards. 

He spent an hour that afternoon peeling potatoes. Eventually, he figured out how to press them against the side of the sink so they wouldn’t slip around while he peeled. That’s what he had for dinner. Boiled potatoes. But he felt like he had accomplished a lot, so they tasted really good.

♣

It was around ten o'clock in the morning and Bucky had only just got out of bed and was making some coffee when there was a knock on his door. He clutched his robe closed, not having had time to tie it up, and opened the door.

It was the landlord, Mrs. Flanagan, who had rented the apartment to him. She was about twenty years older and had told him several times the day he met her that she was a widow. She was also wearing a robe and had her hair in curlers. She already had bright red lipstick on. “There’s a phone call for you, sugar.”

“A phone call?”

“Come with me.”

He followed her to her apartment at the end of the hall. It was very different from his apartment, which was small and bare. Hers was much bigger, but crowded with things. There were overstuffed cushions everywhere. There were heavy, lavish, drapes that pooled at the floor by the windows, and coffee tables with fresh flowers. He glanced into the bedroom to see clothes everywhere and makeup strewn across a dressing table.

She pointed to the phone and laid back on a chaise lounge, watching him. He picked the receiver up. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this James Barnes?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Steve Rogers. I’m calling about the notice you put up in Goodman’s Grocery store. About needing a roommate.”

“Yes!” Bucky said enthusiastically. “Yes. It’s still available. I only put the notice up yesterday.”

“I asked the operator to put me through. I hope that’s all right. I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. I work at Goodman’s but I was sick yesterday and only saw the notice this morning.”

Bucky glanced at Mrs. Flanagan and she smiled and winked. “It’s fine. And you’re still the first person to ask about it. Oh, I didn’t say so in the notice, but it’s a shared bedroom. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes. I’ve been looking for a place for a while so this is really great.”

Bucky suddenly remembered his ma’s advice about interviewing potential candidates first. He wasn’t sure if he should just take the first person who contacted him. “Would you like to come by and see it first, just to make sure?”

“Sure. I’m just on a short break at work right now, but would it be okay if I came by this evening? Quarter past six?” 

“That’s fine.”

“Great. Thanks a lot.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He put the receiver down and turned to Mrs. Flanagan. She stood up. “Look at us,” she said. “Both half undressed.” She let out a surprisingly lyrical laugh.

He didn’t know what came over him, but Bucky actually smirked. Then just as quickly, his cockiness disappeared. If he slept with her, he would have to get naked. She would see what remained of his left arm, all red and scarred. He wasn’t ready for that.

“I better get back,” he said. Her smile faded. She looked disappointed and Bucky regretted it, but he didn’t change his mind. “Thanks for letting me use the phone.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said, recovering quickly. She walked to the door and opened it for him. “Don’t go getting into any mischief,” she said as he slipped out. _Not much chance of that_ , he thought.

♣

When he opened his apartment door on the dot of six fifteen, he couldn’t believe who was waiting on the other side. “Steve?”

Steve looked shocked. “Bucky? You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” he said. _How could I forget_. “Uh, come in.”

“You’re back,” Steve said. Then he made an awkward gesture towards Bucky. “Obviously. I mean, I didn’t expect...” His eyes darted to Bucky’s pinned up sleeve and his voice trailed off.

“As you can see, I didn’t return in one piece.”

Steve looked him in the eye again. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t set off the bomb.”

“Just that, that happened to you.”

“I don’t need sympathy, just a roommate.”

Steve nodded. “Right. That’s what I’m here for.”

Bucky nodded. “Good.” He held out his hand and Steve shook it. He relaxed a little. “You remember me too,” he said. He liked that. 

“Yes.” He said it with an intensity Bucky didn’t expect. His eyes shifted from Steve’s to the wall behind Steve’s head. He hadn’t let himself be distracted by thoughts of that night while he was at war, but when he came home, the first night he had the desire to touch himself again, it was to the memory of his night with Steve.

And he’d thought the memory had been vivid too, but he had clearly been remembering Steve all wrong. He glanced back at the man before him. He looked even more handsome to Bucky now, standing in the early evening rays of sunlight that streamed through the window. His memories had been purely erotic, but this Steve had an innocence about him. 

“I’ll take the notice down then?” Steve said, tentative, but smiling.

“Good idea.”

 _This is a good idea_ , he told himself. They knew things about each other they wouldn’t have to hide. Although Bucky still wasn’t sure if he wanted to explore that part of himself any further. He didn’t even know if he’d ever feel comfortable being intimate with anyone again. 

But Steve seemed like someone who needed not just a roommate but a friend, and Bucky knew that feeling too. “When do you want to move in?”

♣

He regretted informing his parents that he had found a roommate and that he was going to be moving in on Saturday, because at nine o’clock that morning they were knocking on his door. His ma had a coffee cake with her. He knew they were only there to help, but it annoyed him because it seemed like they thought he couldn’t help Steve on his own.

Steve showed up not long after, a big box in his arms. Bucky’s dad ran and practically snatched it off him. “Let me get that.”

“You must be Steve!” his ma said, swooping down on him and definitely not using the ‘quiet voice’ she’d consistently told Bucky to use throughout his life. 

Steve looked mildly stunned. “Yes, pleased to meet you, uh, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes, but please, call me Winifred. And this is George.”

Steve smiled. “I’ll just go get the rest of my things. I had to leave them down where the taxi dropped me off.”

“I’ll go with you,” Bucky said.

“I’ll help too,” his dad said. So they all marched down the stairs to bring up Steve’s boxes and suitcases. It only took two short trips, but still, his parents weren’t ready to leave yet. His ma asked Steve if he needed help unpacking.

Steve looked thoughtful. “Those boxes there don’t need unpacking. Um. A lot of it is my mother’s stuff that I just haven’t had the heart to give away yet,” he said, almost apologetically.

His ma gave him a sympathetic look and patted his arm. “Would you like some coffee cake?”

Bucky cringed. His ma always thought baked goods were the cure to everything. But Steve smiled and said, “Sure.” It occurred to Bucky that although they had been extremely intimate physically, he really knew nothing about Steve’s life. 

She busied herself making coffee while Bucky crouched beside Steve as he started opening up boxes of linen. “Sorry,” he whispered. “They just showed up.”

Steve smiled. “I don’t mind. They’re nice.”

“Ma,” he said when she called them over for cake, “I can help Steve unpack. Go and enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

She put her hand up to his cheek and rubbed her thumb across it lovingly, which always made Bucky embarrassed even when there was no one around. Now he was acutely aware of Steve’s presence. “All right honey, we’ll go.” But she fussed around for another five minutes, helping Steve make his bed, even when he told her she didn’t have to. 

Bucky managed to get his dad to the door and was about to ask him if he’d be willing to physically drag his ma from the apartment, but his dad turned to him and said, “Son, you’re doing a good job.”

“Aw, dad.” He wondered if his parents were ever going to stop being so overly sentimental about him. It made him feel like a fraud because they obviously thought he was handling things a lot better than he felt like he was. Everything he did seemed to take so much effort. 

His dad put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two one dollar bills. “There’s a Dodgers game tomorrow.”

Bucky looked down at his outstretched hand. Why was he handing him money? “You want to go?” 

His dad shook his head. “Why don’t you take Steve?”

Bucky turned to look at where Steve and his ma were arranging cushions and a quilt on the couch. He knew what his dad was doing. He knew his parents worried about him only ever spending time with them and Rebecca. But it wasn’t exactly like he had friends to spend time with any more—they were all at war. Or they acted weird around him now. 

“Are you sure? We could go together.”

“Take Steve.” He took Bucky’s hand and placed the notes on his palm. “Go out and have fun.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, dad.”

When he’d finally got his ma out the door, he collapsed on the couch. “Sorry about that.”

Steve looked up from where he was putting some plates in one of the kitchen cupboards. “I like your folks,” he said.

Bucky shrugged. “They’re all right.” He didn’t feel able to express the true gratitude he had for them. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Steve, without his parents. Steve just smiled, like he understood. 

Bucky was silent as he watched Steve move around the kitchen, drying the coffee mugs and putting them away. It was strange, but even though he’d been alone in the apartment for a week, he didn’t feel territorial over it. Seeing Steve in the kitchen didn’t feel out of place at all. Bucky didn’t know how much he’d needed the company until it was there. “Do you like baseball, Steve?” he asked.

Steve looked up. “Yeah. Why?”

“There’s a game at Ebbets Field tomorrow. Do you want to go?”

Steve looked at the mug he was holding. “I don’t really have the money.”

“My treat.”

Steve looked up and shook his head. “No, you should keep your money for yourself. Don’t waste it on me.”

He was embarrassed that he had to spell it out for Steve and almost gave up. But remembering the look on his Dad’s face kept him trying. “Look, my dad gave me some money and told me to go to the game tomorrow, and to take you,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.” Steve looked uncertain. 

Bucky felt his heart sink. “I guess if you’re busy—”

“No! I’m not busy. I mean, I have church in the morning but nothing after that. Thanks, Bucky.”

The smile he gave Bucky was so genuine it made Bucky feel uncomfortable. Like he didn’t deserve it. He stood up and walked around the room, looking at the few personal items Steve had dotted about. It certainly looked a lot homier now. He walked to the bookshelf and peered at the spines of the books Steve had put there. 

“You can read them if you like,” Steve said.

Bucky picked one up. It was in pristine condition. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” 

Bucky watched as Steve went back to busying himself in the kitchen. He took the book back to the couch and was lost in it for the rest of the afternoon.

♣

Bucky walked out the door just as Mrs. Flanagan was walking down the hallway. “Hi, handsome,” she said.

“Hello, Mrs. Flanagan,” he looked into the apartment, wishing he hadn’t told Steve he would wait outside. 

“Oh honey, call me Colleen.”

Just then Steve came out of the apartment and closed the door. “Oh, hello.” Mrs. Flanagan said.

“Um, Colleen, this is Steve. My new roommate.” He could see her eyes look Steve up and down and it annoyed him. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve said, leaning forward and extending his hand.

She took it and shook, raising an eyebrow at Bucky before giving Steve a smile Bucky thought was flagrantly fake. 

“Steve. You work at Goodman’s, don't you?”

“Yes ma’am, it’s really lucky I found a place to live so close by.”

“Isn’t it. Well, I’m awfully busy. Excuse me, boys.”

They said goodbye and headed down the stairs. “She’s weird,” Bucky said.

“I thought she was all right.”

Bucky glanced at Steve skeptically. Had he really not noticed the critical look she’d given him? Or was it something he was used to? Bucky didn’t think he could ever be so forgiving. He was glad he hadn’t slept with Mrs. Flanagan and promised himself he would avoid her as much as possible from now on. 

They didn’t talk much on the bus ride to Ebbets Field, but it was very full and most people were just trying their best to avoid eye contact with the people around them. Bucky had grown pretty adept at that. Once they found their seats in the stadium Bucky was worried things might be awkward between him and Steve with nothing apartment related to discuss, but they got along just fine, commenting on the players and, unfortunately, all the mistakes they were making. 

“I can’t watch this,” Bucky said after a while. “I’m going to get a hot dog.”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve said.

“How did this happen?” Bucky said, as they stood in line at the concession stand. “They won the last couple of days didn’t they?”

Steve shrugged. “I guess they’re just off today.”

“I’m wondering if my dad somehow knew this game was going to go so badly and is trying to punish me,” Bucky joked.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” Steve said earnestly.

Bucky laughed “I know. Rotten luck though.”

They took their hot dogs back to their seats and continued to watch only apathetically. They mostly talked about their childhoods. It was strange to realise their paths had never crossed when they’d lived so close their whole lives. 

“Maybe we did meet when we were kids. In one of those neighbourhood baseball games?”

Steve shook his head. “My ma didn’t like me to play those, in case I had an asthma attack.”

“That’s too bad.”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been very good. No one to practice with.”

Bucky glanced at Steve’s profile and suddenly wished very intensely that he had met Steve as a kid. He was sure if he had they would be friends. He would have taught him how to play baseball. 

The Dodgers lost against the St. Louis Cardinals, 0-11. “Sorry I invited you to such a crummy game,” Bucky said. 

Steve looked at him, squinting one eye against the sun. “That’s okay. The last time I was here was around the same time last year, and the Dodgers won. But I still think I had more fun today.”

Bucky was glad, because he enjoyed Steve’s company too. “Next time, I’ll ask my dad if the Dodgers are gonna win or not, since he can see the future and all. I’ll put money on them too.”

“Me too,” Steve said. “It’s probably the only way I’ll ever get rich.”

♣

He and Steve fell into an easy friendship. Or at least, Steve was easy to live with. But he worked a lot, and when he was home, he spent a lot of time at the kitchen table drawing. He was patient with Bucky’s moods too. One night he came home to Bucky banging a can of Spam in rage against the kitchen counter because he couldn’t open it.

He ran over. “Do you want some help?”

“No!” Bucky roared.

Steve snatched his hand back, but he didn’t look away from Bucky’s defiant glare. Bucky’s anger started to slip away but he gave the can one final bang before saying, “Fine.”

Steve put his hand over Bucky’s and pulled the can away. “I know it’s not the same, but I do know what it’s like to have people look at me like I can’t do something, and I understand that it can be hard to accept help sometimes, I’m pretty bad at it myself, but…”

“But what,” Bucky said petulantly. He hated the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. He didn’t used to be so damned ornery.

“Well…”

“What?”

“We’re… friends.” Steve posited. 

“Yeah. We’re friends,” he said. Not that it wasn’t true, but he felt strange saying it. It was the least ordinary friendship he’d ever had. 

“So it’s not so awful that a friend opens a can of Spam for you is it?” Steve said.

Bucky made a face. “When you put it that way, it does make me seem like a bit of a fathead.”

“You’re not a fathead, Bucky.” He handed the opened can of Spam back to him. “You gonna share that?”

“A ha! I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard. “How many eggs do you want?”

“Two please.” He waited a moment before speaking again. “Thanks, Steve.”

So maybe Bucky had fallen _too_ easily into the friendship, because when his parents showed up a week after Steve moved in, he realised he hadn’t seen them since then, and he’d promised to visit that week.

“James, you haven’t come to visit us,” his ma said as soon as he opened the door. “Ma. I—”

She pushed her way into the apartment and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. “You said you would.”

He hung his head. “I know. Sorry, Ma.”

She huffed and walked around the room, as if she was expecting to find it in shambles. It was spotless, although that was mostly due to Steve. But Bucky had been doing his fair share of chores too. 

“Where’s Steve?” she asked.

“He’s still at church.”

She gave him a look. “ _You_ should be going to church too.”

He hadn’t been to church since he returned from Europe and he had no intentions of ever going again. He didn’t know why Steve went either. He didn’t want to argue about it though, so he changed the subject. “I’ll come visit you next weekend. I promise.”

“You better. It’s the Fourth of July!” 

He was surprised. He hadn’t been particularly invested these days in what the date was, but he hadn’t realised he’d been back for so long. It still only felt like yesterday. 

“Oh, hello, Steve,” he heard his dad say. He turned to see his dad still standing timidly in the doorway.

“Hello, Mr. B—uh George. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh. Yes.”

Steve gave Bucky a quizzical look as he followed Bucky’s dad inside the apartment and shut the door. Bucky looked away, embarrassed. He didn’t want Steve to see his ma scolding him like a child. But she seemed to give up on that when she saw Steve. “Hello, dear.”

“Hello, ma’am. Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be lovely, Steve.” She glared at Bucky, as if he should have already offered it to her. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have any cake to offer you. That coffee cake you made was delicious, by the way. We tried to make it last, but it was hard when it was so good.” She beamed at him and although Bucky felt a twinge of jealousy, he was thankful Steve had arrived to diffuse the situation.

“Steve, you must come to our Fourth of July celebration next Saturday. If you’re not busy, of course.”

“I’m not busy,” Steve said. “But are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! It will be lovely to have you, won’t it George?”

Bucky’s dad looked up from where he’d parked himself on the couch. “Yes, of course.”

Steve smiled, but looked to Bucky, like he still wanted to make sure it was okay with him first. Bucky nodded. “Okay,” Steve said. “Thank you very much.”

♣

“Sorry you got dragged into visiting my family,” Bucky said as they climbed the stairs to his parents apartment. “You probably did have better things to do, didn’t you?”

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t. And I’m grateful they invited me. Really.”

The door was unlocked for them to let themselves in. “We’re here!” Bucky called.

His ma ran out if the kitchen to kiss him on the cheek. She gave Steve a kiss too and bustled them into the living room. Bucky noticed his sister setting the dinner table. “Hi Becks,” he said. He hadn’t seen her since he moved out and he felt bad about it. It wasn’t long ago when they used to spend all day together. 

“Becca’s got a new beau,” his ma chirped.

“Ma!” Her cheeks went pink. His ma just grinned before heading back into the kitchen.

Bucky then felt guilty for an entirely different reason: he’d been holding her back from living her life. 

She walked towards Bucky and gave him a hug. “Hi, stranger.”

He held her tight. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “But hey, at least you get to spend your time how you want to now, instead of babysitting me.”

She pulled back looking hurt. “You know I didn’t mind that, Bucky.”

Bucky glanced at Steve who quickly looked away, as if the ugly clock on the wall was suddenly very interesting to him.

“Um, so, this new fella. Is he coming over too?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice. “I thought I’d wait a bit longer before introducing him to Ma.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re smart.”

“Well someone got all the brains in this family, and it wasn’t you.”

Steve laughed at that and Bucky turned to him, frowning.

Steve covered his mouth. “Sorry.”

Rebecca laughed too. But when she saw Bucky still had a scowl on his face, she said, “Oh, come on, Bucky.”

Bucky wasn’t really mad but he pretended to be a little longer. He stormed over to the couch and slouched down. His dad looked up from where he was sitting in the armchair reading a newspaper. 

“Hello, James. How are things at the new apartment?”

“I don’t think my new roommate is going to work out, dad.”

Rebecca gasped and Steve looked devastated. “Bucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Bucky burst out laughing.

“Bucky!” Rebecca cried. “That was mean.” She walked over and punched his arm.

“Ow. Meaner than saying I have no brains?” 

“That was a joke and you know it.”

“I was only joking too.”

She turned to Steve. “I’m sorry my brother is such a fathead.”

Steve smiled. “Nah, he’s all right.” He glanced at Bucky’s dad who was watching them with a raised eyebrow. 

“The new apartment’s great, dad,” Bucky said, sensing Steve’s embarrassment. “Steve’s a great roommate.”

His dad nodded. “Good.” He was about to go back to his paper but stopped and said. “Please don’t do any of that”—he gestured at them—“at the dinner table.”

“Sorry, about that. We won’t.”

Just then his ma appeared. “Dinner’s nearly ready. Why don’t you take your seats?”

“Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs. Barnes?” Steve asked.

“I told you to call me Winifred!” she said, but she smiled at him. “Thank you, Steve. You could help bring some of the dishes out.”

“Of course.”

Not to be outdone, Bucky offered to help as well, but she told him to sit down. “I can carry out a dish, you know,” he said.

She gave him an exasperated look. “No one said you couldn’t, honey.”

That annoyed him further. He felt like he was being a nuisance just because he wanted to do things that other people with two arms could do. He yanked out his chair and sat down sulkily. 

Steve gave him a sympathetic look but ran after his ma into the kitchen. Rebecca sat opposite Bucky at the table. “She’s still a bit upset about you moving out. Then not coming to visit. She worries about you. And I think… she felt needed and now she doesn’t.”

His anger faded, just a little. “Of course, she’s needed. I’ll always need her. But I’m not a little kid.”

“She knows that.”

“James!” His ma suddenly shrieked. 

He jumped up and ran to the kitchen. He thought she needed help with something, but she was standing with her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell us it was Steve’s birthday?”

He looked at Steve, who gave a helpless, apologetic shrug.

“I didn’t know!”

She sighed and turned to pick up a basket of bread rolls. “Here, take this back out with you.” 

He didn’t know whether to be glad at having something to do, or offended by the dismissal. He glanced at Steve, who looked supremely uncomfortable. “Happy birthday,” he said. He caught Steve smile on his way out the door.

Things became less tense once they were all at the table with food in front of them. There was rib roast beef, peas served in the green glass bowl his ma had had since Bucky was a boy, and that tomato jello that Bucky hated but Steve ate politely. It was quiet for a few moments as they ate, but Bucky could see his ma watching Steve and knew it wouldn’t be long until the questions started. For a bizarre moment Bucky felt like he was the one who’d brought a boyfriend home. He knew that could never happen though. He looked at Rebecca with the empty chair beside her and felt envious that she would be able to fill that chair with whoever she liked. 

“Do you have a sweetheart, Steve?” his ma asked. Bucky tuned back into the conversation.

Steve glanced at him. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s a shame. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before you find the right girl.”

She moved on to another topic of conversation and it irrationally hurt Bucky that she didn’t ask him if he had a sweetheart. As if she thought no girl would be interested in him now. Then the subject of Rebecca’s new boyfriend came up and he got to rag on her for that, ignoring the nagging feeling of rejection that didn’t even have a valid source. 

Bucky’s ma piled Steve’s plate with more food than even Bucky thought he’d be able to eat. She probably thought she could fatten him up. He made a valiant effort, but after a while even his ma realised he was struggling and told him she would make up a plate of leftovers for him to take home. She didn’t say anything about a plate for Bucky. 

After dinner they had black raspberries and big slices of watermelon. He and Steve took their slices out onto the fire escape and sat with their legs dangling above the alley below. “So,” Bucky said. “You’re twenty-four today? Practically an old man.”

Steve snorted. “Oh, and that must make you a spring chicken.”

“You got it, baby,” Bucky said and spat a watermelon seed out onto the street. Steve gave him a disapproving look and Bucky grinned. “Betcha can’t spit farther than me.”

“Why would I want to?” Steve said. He took a bite of his watermelon trying to look dignified, but when he pulled it from his mouth his cheeks glistened from where the fruit had pressed against his skin.

“Aw, you’re just saying that ‘cause you can’t.” Bucky had the feeling that would prompt Steve into action, and he was right. Steve narrowed his eyes. He sat up straight with a determined look on his face and a seed shot out from between his lips.

They got so wrapped up in the competition they nearly fell off the fire escape in fright when Bucky’s ma poked her head out. “What on earth are you two doing? James Buchanan Barnes, how old are you?”

“Sorry, Ma.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Steve said. He’d turned bright red.

Bucky gave his ma an interested look, wondering just how she would excuse Steve but rebuke him. She pointedly ignored him, like she knew just what he was thinking. “Come inside for coffee,” she said shortly, and disappeared.

“Oh no, look what you made me do,” Steve hissed. “Your ma probably hates me now.”

Bucky chuckled. “I doubt that.” He heaved himself up and climbed back through the window, with Steve closely following. 

As Steve and Bucky got ready to leave, his ma handed them both plates of leftovers. “Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Winifred,” she said. “You’re welcome, Steve. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He opened the door and walked out into the hallway.

Bucky hung back. “Ma, you know I’ll always need you, right? I just need to try things on my own. But I’ll always need you. You’re my ma.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, honey. I just… I’m frightened about not having enough time with you. You were almost taken from me.”

He hugged her. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

She made a sobbing sound into his shoulder, then pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Of course it is. Off you go.” She nudged him towards the door. “Go on home.”

♣

Bucky had been over at his parents place for dinner, and when he came back to the apartment, the lights were on, but it was empty. There were pieces of paper strewn across the table where Steve had been sitting earlier that night when he’d left. He figured Steve had gone to the bathroom, and couldn’t help take a closer peak at Steve’s drawings while he wasn’t there.

He was surprised by what he saw. They were battle scenes. Soldiers running over grassy fields holding American flags. The sound of a throat being cleared startled him. He looked up to find Steve watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve. Sorry. Um, these are really good.”

“Thanks. Next time, ask first, okay?”

“I will. Sorry. I shouldn’t have looked,” Bucky stammered.

“It’s okay.”

“Is… do you really think about that a lot?”

Steve’s face went stony. “I should be there. I should be doing my duty like everybody else.”

Bucky wondered how Steve had espoused such a pro-war stance. He didn’t strike Bucky as overly zealous with his patriotism. He had criticisms of the way things were. But Bucky realised Steve likely felt just how he’d felt when he signed up. He wished he could make Steve see his pictures were a fantasy. “It’s not like that you know. It’s cold and dirty. There’s mud everywhere. And you’re always scared. You shit yourself you’re so scared.”

“At least you were ther—” The expression on Bucky’s face stopped him from finishing his sentence. 

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

Steve’s face went ghostly white. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Bucky turned his back to Steve and went into the bedroom. Steve followed him. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky whirled around. “Just ask yourself this, Steve. Are you prepared to kill people? Because I wasn’t. You might think you are. But you’re not. And you shouldn’t be. No one should be. Next time you wish you were off playing war just think about yourself with a rifle in your hand having just taken someone’s life. Then ask yourself if it’s what you really want.” He turned and threw himself onto his bed. He put his pillow over his face and waited until he heard Steve walk back into the living room.

He wasn’t just angry with Steve for being incredibly naive. The thought of Steve having to kill someone frightened him. He hadn’t known Steve very long but he knew that wasn’t a life he should have. There was just something inherently good about him. Bucky didn’t want to see that marred by doing the terrible things Bucky’d had to do.

♣

Bucky lay on the couch, settling into his malaise. It was Saturday, but to him, it could have been any day of the week. Steve’s copy of _The Great Gatsby_ lay on his chest but he didn’t have the energy to pick it up. He was still annoyed with Steve, but they’d been civil to each other throughout the week. Bucky thought maybe it would be for the best if they were just roommates, not friends.

Steve walked into the living room from the bedroom. “I’m going to Prospect Park,” he said, “if you’d like to join me.” He held up his sketchpad with a slightly sheepish look.

Bucky barely lifted his head. He knew it was a peace offering, but he was wary. “No, thanks.”

“Come on, Bucky. You aren’t just going to lie on the couch all day, are you?”

“Yep.”

“But it’s such a nice day outside.” 

Steve’s eyes were pleading, and Bucky gave in way too easily. “Okay, fine.” He sat up and swung his legs onto the floor. Steve grinned and Bucky couldn’t keep his lips from curling up. It seemed like Steve wouldn’t let them only be roommates, and Bucky admitted to himself he was glad about it. 

They took a short bus ride to the park and entered near the lake. It was a hot day, so they enjoyed the shade of the trees as they walked along the lake’s edge. Several ducks waddled after them, hoping for food. Steve stopped to take a quick sketch of a swan. 

They walked past Lookout Hill, neither suggesting to walk up it, not wanting to exert any more energy than they needed to. They walked towards Concert Grove and passed the statues of Mozart, Beethoven, and Abraham Lincoln.

“Great president,” Bucky said, pointing at the statue. Not because he had strong feelings about Lincoln, but for something to say. 

Steve nodded. “Yes.”

“You know, my full name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I know, I heard your ma call you that.”

“I guess he wasn’t that great though,” Bucky said.

Steve seemed to take forever to answer. “Well,” he said, “he might have been… you know. So that’s interesting.”

Bucky furrowed his brows. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know. A friend of Dorothy?”

“Dorothy who?”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “Never mind.” If he’d been trying to encode something into what he was saying, Bucky didn’t have the sophistication understand it. They approached a bench. “Let’s sit here for a while,” Steve said. It was nice and shaded so Bucky agreed. Steve opened his sketchbook and started drawing a couple of squirrels underneath a tree. 

Bucky smiled at some girls who walked past. They giggled and whispered. He thought if he got up and went to catch up with them they would probably talk to him. But he was prevented by a fear he’d never had before. They might not have noticed he only had one arm. If he went up to them they definitely would. What if their smiles turned to sneers of disgust? His hand gripped his knee so tight his knuckles turned snowy white.

He tried again when another woman walked past. She was wearing a blue pantsuit, and was walking a brown poodle. He grinned, probably a bit presumptuously, at her and thought for sure he would get a scowl back, but she smiled and nodded. He turned to Steve to find him watching him shrewdly.

“What?”

Steve turned back to his drawing. “Nothing,” he said, with obviously feigned nonchalance. 

Bucky finally guessed it was because Steve must have been thinking of Bucky as queer. He was still confused about that. He didn’t know if he wanted to pursue it further. He hadn’t really thought much about his future relationships because he’d been too scared to think he would make it out of the war alive. His night with Steve had been good—amazing. But it wasn’t like he didn’t like women anymore. 

Either way, he didn’t think he had it in him to flirt with anyone else that day. “Can we go home now?” he said.

Steve looked up from his drawing. “Yeah, of course. I can finish this later.”

Bucky felt a bit like a complaining child but Steve smiled at him as he packed his pencils away and then he didn’t feel so bad. “Thanks, Steve.”

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

♣

It was one of those nights where, even in Brooklyn, it was too quiet to sleep. There were no bombs going off in the distance. No gunfire. And he wasn’t _exhausted_. Bucky stared out the living room window and smoked. It was raining, but the sky was strangely light. The fog giving everything a nebulous glow. The rain rattled onto the fire escape. It sounded almost like purring.

The rain hadn’t cooled the heat of their apartment. It was probably more stuffy because the windows were closed. Bucky had taken great care to always have his shoulders covered around Steve, but while Steve was asleep he wore only an undershirt. He didn’t notice that Steve was no longer asleep until he was standing beside Bucky. Right beside the exposed remainder of his left arm. Bucky’s whole body seized with panic. The room was light enough for Steve to see it. He expected Steve to gawk, but all he noticed was a quick glance, and nothing about his demeanor changed. He wasn’t shocked or disgusted. 

“Can’t sleep?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head. “Do you want some tea?”

“Nah.” He couldn’t move from where he was standing and he didn’t want Steve to turn any lights on.

“Okay.” They stood in silence for a long time, just watching the rain. 

Eventually, Bucky’s heart stopped pounding so hard and he started to relax. He even let out a yawn. “I guess I’ll go back to bed,” he said. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Bucky walked ahead of Steve and tried not to think about Steve looking at his arm. He picked up the pajama top he’d left lying over the bed and put it on, then climbed under his sheet.

“Night,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed, feeling something like relief. Steve had seen his arm, but it had been okay. “Night.”

art by [kikis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kikis/pseuds/kikis)

♣

Bucky stomped up the stairs after a day of looking for work. He saw Mrs. Flanagan down the end of the hall and quickly slipped inside their apartment before she saw him. Having to talk to her was the last thing he felt like doing. He expected Steve to be there already but he wasn’t, so Bucky started making dinner. Pan fried sausages and canned spaghetti—he was pretty good at opening cans now. It was the best he could do, and not because of his arm, but because he was terrible at cooking.

He looked up when he heard the door open and nearly dropped the pan on the floor. Steve looked a mess. His clothes were all crumpled and dirty, he was bleeding from his lip, and a deep purple puffiness surrounded his eye. He stared at Steve open mouthed and Steve looked away. He put the pan down and strode over to Steve. He grabbed his arm and made him sit on one of the kitchen chairs. “Who did this?” he demanded.

Steve said nothing. Bucky turned and grabbed a clean cloth which he ran under the tap. He dabbed it to Steve’s lip and Steve flinched, but didn’t stop him. “Steve, who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said sullenly. “I didn’t ask his name.”

“You’re expecting me to believe a complete stranger did a number on you for no reason?”

“It wasn’t for no reason. He was being a jerk, so I—”

Bucky interrupted him. “This didn’t… did it happen near that bar?”

Steve took umbrage with that and narrowed his eyes at Bucky. “No it didn’t. I’m not stupid, Bucky. I’m careful about that.”

“Sorry. Why then?”

Steve looked away again, his jaw clenching.

“Hey,” Bucky said, but Steve wouldn’t look back at him. Bucky could see his eyes were red and threatening to spill. He followed Steve’s gaze to the paper Bucky had thrown down on the table. The front page was all about the Guadalcanal Campaign. 

“I should be over there,” Steve said.

Bucky didn’t get as angry as the last time, but he was hurt. And what was worse, was that Steve was hurting himself over this. Bucky couldn’t understand why he wanted it so badly. “Doing what,” he said nonchalantly. “Getting yourself killed?” Steve said nothing. “Steve. What happened?”

Steve dug in his pocket and handed over a piece of paper with a big 4F on it. Bucky took it slowly. It was crumpling in his hand before he realised what he was doing. “That doesn’t explain the shiner,” he said. 

Steve shrugged. “There was a guy hassling me about it.”

That made Bucky momentarily indignant on Steve’s behalf and he couldn’t exactly blame Steve if he’d wanted to get a few blows in. But he couldn’t quite forgive Steve either. “That guy was a jerk,” he said. “They shouldn’t be letting guys like that into the army. But that doesn’t mean you should be there either.”

“Why?”

Bucky ignored that. He sighed and pulled the cloth away. “If you do this again,” he said. “Try and join the army, I mean. I don’t want to know about it.” He’d hoped Steve would promise not to do it again, but all he did was nod. Bucky supposed that was all he could ask for, though he didn’t like it.

♣

Bucky’s search for work eventually led him out of Brooklyn and into Manhattan, though as soon as he was there he knew it was a mistake. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking as he walked past the the high class stores and businesses. He felt even more self conscious and like he didn’t belong. Before the war, he would have strolled along confidently, and probably would have gotten the first job he asked about. He would have been good at sales, he thought, but no one would employ him to do that now. He didn’t look the part.

He ducked into an alleyway beside Macy’s to have a cigarette away from the bustling sidewalk. He heard men yelling and looked down to the end of the alley where there was an opening. He walked towards it and looked out at a delivery truck backing out of a garage. He watched while he finished his cigarette, then walked out onto the driveway and up to the loading dock where the truck had come from. A man who had been glaring at a clipboard looked up and noticed him. “Can I help you?”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any work going?” Bucky asked.

The man looked him up and down, his eyes resting on Bucky’s pinned up sleeve for a moment. He tucked his clipboard under his arm and said, “As a matter of fact I do.”

Bucky had been expecting a terse rejection. “Really?”

The man turned. “Follow me.”

Bucky walked doubly fast to keep up. He was led into an office that had a window overlooking the delivery station. The man sat down behind the desk and motioned for Bucky to take a seat across from him. 

As soon as Bucky was seated the man started talking. “I need someone to help oversee the deliveries in and out of this place. Packing things up and making sure the customers orders are correct, as well as making sure the new stock that comes in is what we’ve ordered from the suppliers and there haven’t been any mistakes.” 

“I can do that,” Bucky said. 

“There’s some physical work to it, packing and lifting.” He looked at Bucky’s arm again. 

Bucky nodded. “I can do it. I promise.”

“You gotta be reliable.”

“I will be. I am.” He glanced at the name plate sitting on the man’s desk. “Mr. Lloyd.”

Mr. Lloyd still didn’t look like he was convinced, but he nodded. Bucky suspected the job had very recently been vacated—probably by another young man headed off to war—and needed to be filled immediately. He hated that his luck was turning around when that young man was likely to never return home. But it didn’t stop him from wanting the job. He needed it. 

“All right then. Be here tomorrow morning at seven o’clock.”

Bucky grinned. “Thank you sir, you won't regret it!” He reached over the desk and held out his hand for Mr. Lloyd to shake. 

Mr. Lloyd took it tentatively. “We’ll see about that.”

♣

Bucky grinned to himself as took the bus back to Brooklyn. He ignored the propaganda posters scattering the walls of the interior. He finally had a job. He knew he would have a lot to prove with Mr Lloyd, but he also knew he could do it.

His shoes swished through the autumnal leaves on the concrete as he walked from the bus stop. Before he rounded the corner to his apartment building he heard yelling and he knew what was going on before he could see. “Damnit, Steve,” he said under his breath.

He sped up until the scene was in full view. Steve yelling at a scruffy looking man. The man pushed at Steve’s shoulder and Bucky started running. “Hey! What’s going on?” He stood in front of Steve, taking his side even though it was more than likely Steve was the one who had instigated it. 

The man glared at him but lowered his raised fist. “What? You’re gonna fight someone half your size but not a guy with one arm? Get lost,” Bucky said. 

The man muttered something and stomped off. Bucky turned to Steve who was now berating Bucky for interfering. “Cool down, will ya? Jeez Steve, what was it this time?”

“He wasn’t twice my size,” Steve said, ignoring the question. 

Bucky followed him up the stairs to their apartment, feeling considerably less elated than he had been five minutes ago. Once inside, he watched Steve bang about the kitchen. Slamming a pan down on the stove. He muscled out of his jacket, grabbing the end of the sleeve with his fingers to pull it down. Steve had definitely brought down his mood, but he still wanted to tell him about the new job anyway. “I got a job today,” he said.

Steve stopped and looked at Bucky. “Where?”

Bucky was taken aback. It wasn’t the reaction he expected. “Macy’s. In Manhattan. I’ll be helping out with the deliveries.”

“So you’ll be helping all those rich people get their pearl earrings and silk ties delivered right to their doorstep?” Steve said, his voice acerbic. 

Rage flared up inside of Bucky. He stood up and walked right out the door without his jacket. Slamming it on the way out. He’d thought Steve would be supportive. At least congratulate him. He thought about walking to his parents place, but it wasn’t his ma’s approval, or his dad’s, or Rebecca’s that he wanted. It was Steve’s. So instead of walking in the direction of his family, he walked around the block several times, kicking more than one garbage can when they were so conveniently placed. 

He was still angry when he went back to the apartment. It was the chilly air that forced him back. Steve jumped up from the couch the second Bucky walked in the door. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I shouldn’t have said that. It doesn’t matter who the customers are. I was in a bad mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m really sorry.” He looked so earnest, it was hard for Bucky to hold a grudge. He thought maybe he could if he really wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He liked Steve too much to be mad at him. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you were fighting with that guy about?” Bucky said.

Steve looked contrite. “I came home from work and Mrs. Flanagan was out there with him. They were having an argument. It was about money, I think.” 

“How come she wasn’t there when I got there?”

“I told her to go inside.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Boy, did Steve like to play the hero. Or he had a death wish. 

“I made some dinner,” Steve said. He pointed to the table and the two plates sitting on it. Bucky’s stomach grumbled. “It shouldn’t be too cold.”

Bucky sat down at the table. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence until Steve spoke again. “I am happy for you, Bucky. You deserve a good job. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that.”

The last shred of anger Bucky had disappeared. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Steve smiled and shoved a spear of broccoli into his mouth. 

“I’ve never seen that guy before. Does he live here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You said he was fighting with Mrs. Flanagan about money.” Steve nodded. “I’ve seen inside her apartment. It didn’t look like she was short on dough.”

Steve shrugged. “That’s none of our business.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “But you just… never mind.” It seemed like maybe Steve was keeping a secret for Mrs. Flanagan and Bucky wasn’t going to ever find out about it. But at least that meant he knew Steve was trustworthy. 

They were silent as they ate, until Steve said. “I really am happy for you, Buck. You’ll be the best employee in that whole building. I know it.” He smiled shyly at Bucky and Bucky smiled back. Steve may have a grudge against rich people, and Bucky could understand that, but he knew Steve meant every word he said. Steve believed in him.

♣

Despite the confidence boost Steve had given him, he was nervous as hell as he rode the bus to work the next day. He put his shaking hand in his pocket as Mr. Lloyd showed him around and explained in further detail the work he expected from Bucky.

As Bucky was introduced to other staff members, he noticed most of the people who worked at the store were women, older men, or in the case of a fella named Thomas, 4F. Then there was Bucky. He tried not to think about the fact he probably wouldn’t have gotten the job if there wasn’t a war going on and there were more able bodied men around.

It wasn’t a hard job though. Bucky had got a grasp of things by mid-morning. It was the staff that were making things difficult. It seemed word travelled fast there was a vet working there. They all wanted to come out the back to meet him. He felt like a zoo animal. He had the answer ready when the first person asked him about the war. “My arm was blasted off my body. What do you think it was like?”

Then he spent the hours until lunchtime worrying that his mouth had gotten him fired on the first day, but at least the curious visits had stopped. Thomas showed him to the lunchroom and sat with him as he ate the sandwich he’d packed from home. Thomas was the only person who hadn’t treated Bucky differently that morning. He reminded Bucky a little of Steve, even though they looked completely different. He was tall and gangly. With dark curly hair and big thick glasses.

When he went back to work after lunch, he thought about what Steve had said about him being a great employee and he had every intention of living up to that, but his first day was not going as expected. When he went to collect deliveries from the different departments, some of the girls wouldn’t give him the chance to pick up the packages himself. Instead, they would quickly grab them and put them in his cart themselves. Then they would ask him if he needed help with the cart. It was embarrassing, but after he’d snapped at someone that morning, he was now trying to be as polite about it as possible. He didn’t want to get a bad reputation. He didn’t know how long he would be able to tolerate it though. If it was going to be like that then maybe he’d rather just live off VA handouts. 

Then late in the afternoon, he had another setback when one of the delivery men dropped a heavy box down behind him. The bang gave him an awful fright and he started shaking. Thomas, who had seen what had happened, led him down the driveway away from the noise of the loading dock for a smoke break. He just stood with him quietly until Bucky’s heart rate had slowed again. He felt foolish, and chuckled without a hint of amusement. “Guess I’m not cut out for this,” he said.

“You’re doing great. Better than anyone else on their first day. Better than the last guy, that’s for sure.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he could believe that, but he appreciated it all the same. As he was getting ready to head home at the end of the day, Mr. Lloyd approached him. “Good work today, Barnes.”

He had to stop himself from asking ‘Really?’ and said, “Thank you, sir,” instead. 

Steve smiled at him as he recounted his day while they ate dinner that night. He left out the part about his reaction to the box being dropped. “I knew you’d be great, Buck,” Steve said. Bucky couldn’t remember when Steve had started calling him ‘Buck’ but he felt especially pleased with hearing it then. He was starting to feel comfortable with himself again, and Steve being comfortable enough to call him ‘Buck’ helped with that a lot.

♣

He was beat by the end of his work week, but it was an accomplished exhaustion. And he had two whole days off and money to buy booze. Steve was still at work when Bucky got home but he knew there was only another twenty minutes left on his shift, and Bucky didn’t feel like waiting around for him to get home so he headed down the street to the grocery store.

He found Steve stacking cans of spaghetti onto a shelf. “Hey.”

Steve looked up and grinned. “Hey!”

“Wanna go to the movies when you get off work?”

“Sure. Have you had dinner?” Bucky shook his head. “I’ll bring something home to eat first.”

“Good idea, I’m starving.”

“Me too.”

“I can hang around and wait for you if you want.”

“That’s okay, I want to finish doing this.”

“Okay, I’ll see you back home.”

Bucky ducked into the liquor store before heading home though. He slipped the brown paper bag into the pocket of his jacket and took several swigs when he got back to the apartment.

Steve arrived home only five minutes after, with several boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. They ate a lot of it because it was cheap and neither of them were particularly good at cooking. Most of what they made came from a box or a can. Steve made their dinner, and Bucky drank from his whiskey bottle while Steve wasn’t looking. He didn’t know why he was hiding it from Steve, he just felt like Steve wouldn’t approve. 

They shovelled down their food, then headed out for the movie theatre. Bucky left Steve to get their tickets to _Bambi_ while he went to the bathroom and drank more from his bottle. He wasn’t normally a heavy drinker, but he felt like getting drunk that night. It wasn’t because he wanted to forget anything, it was because he felt better than he had in a long time, and he thought drinking would enhance that. But mid-way through the movie he was pretty sauced and he was having a hard time concentrating. All the colours were giving him a headache, and he wasn’t feeling better at all, but he kept swigging from the bottle. 

He was relieved when the movie was over and thought he would feel better once out in the fresh air but he didn’t. “Why are you walking like that?” Steve asked. 

“Like what?” Bucky drawled. Then he turned and spewed his guts out all over the pavement. The macaroni and cheese came up an awful orange colour. 

“Bucky! Are you okay?”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Remind me to never eat this stuff again.”

“I’m pretty sure neither of us will need reminding of that,” Steve said. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

Bucky spat before standing up straight and glancing at Steve. “Sorry.”

“Why are you saying sorry to me? You should be apologising to the sidewalk.”

Bucky laughed, then groaned and leaned over again. Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s back and rubbed gently. They walked home slowly, and once there, Steve helped Bucky take off his shoes, jacket, shirt, and pants. Bucky didn’t argue about it. He didn’t have the energy.

“Sorry, Steve,” he said again. “You think I’m a drunk, don’t you? I’m not. I promise. I’m not a drunk.” Steve said something in response but Bucky’s head was pounding too loudly to hear it. “I need to sleep, Steve. I just need to sleep. I’m sorry.”

Steve pulled back Bucky’s blankets and helped him into bed. As soon as he laid back and closed his eyes he was asleep. 

The next day he woke to a pounding in his head and sunlight in his eyes. He groaned and pulled the covers over his face. Then he pushed them back and sat up, panicking because he thought he was late for work. His head pounded even harder and he lay back down. It was then that he remembered it was his day off, and what he had done the night before. 

Steve walked into the bedroom. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Swell.” 

He waited for Steve to chew him out for being so irresponsible, but it never came. He just chuckled and said, “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Bucky rolled over and noticed there was a bucket beside his bed, and a glass of water on his bedside table. He sat up and reached out to get it, though he could only drink about a quarter of it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to drink any coffee either, but he would try, for Steve’s sake. 

He found momentary relief on his back for a minute or so, then had to roll back onto his side and clutch his stomach. He groaned. Steve reappeared in the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Boy, you’re really sick. Maybe I should get a doctor?”

“I don’t need a doctor, Steve. I just need… to turn back time. Preferably to a year ago, before I’d even thought about signing up for the army.”

Steve reached out and rubbed his upper arm before pulling the blanket up over it. “Am I that bad?” he said

Bucky looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we might not have met, if you hadn’t joined the army.” He gave Bucky a dopey grin. 

Bucky realised that was probably true. He asked himself if he could live in a world where Steve Rogers never tried to cheer him up after making a fool of himself. Maybe, but he didn’t want to. He smiled at Steve, though his teeth chattered a little. “You’re not that bad. Not at all.”

♣

They went back to the movies the next weekend. Steve wanted to see _Bambi_ again, though the thought of it made Bucky a little queasy. “Again, Steve?”

“It was a beautiful movie, don’t you think?”

In that moment the only thing Bucky could find beautiful was Steve himself and he scolded himself for thinking so. “Fine, we’ll see _Bambi_ again,” he said grumpily. 

Steve eyed him. “You’re not going to get drunk again, are you?”

“I’m not going to be doing that again for a while, trust me.”

Steve nodded. “So… _Bambi_?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky still found it difficult to focus. He found himself watching Steve more than he watched the movie. Bucky was pretty sure anyone else who knew Steve would have never believed he could get such a delighted expression on his face. Bucky had never seen it. He almost felt like he was intruding on Steve’s privacy, but it was hard to look away. 

Steve was still smiling when he came out of the theatre, though it was more reserved. Bucky lit a cigarette and studied him. Steve gave him a curious look. “What?”

“I was just thinking. Maybe you could become an animator?”

Steve looked surprised. “Me?”

“You’ve got the talent for it. And I can tell how much you like watching that stuff.”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “Do you really think I could do that?”

“Definitely.”

“Thanks.” He sounded pleased.

“I suppose you’d have to move away to Hollywood though,” Bucky said. His mood dimmed at the thought.

Steve shook his head and laughed quietly. “I could never leave Brooklyn.”

Bucky tried not to smile too broadly at that, but he was kind of glad to hear it. He’d sure miss Steve if he was gone.

♣

Bucky was lounging on the couch one evening after work. He’d taken off his shirt, because it had been an unusually warm day for that time of the year, and he’d started to feel a lot more comfortable with Steve seeing his scarred left shoulder. But he still always sat on the left end of the couch, so that his functioning arm was facing Steve.

Steve was later home than he usually was from work, but Bucky didn’t say anything about it when he walked in the door. “Hi,” Steve said.

Bucky glanced up from the book he was reading. “Hi.”

He wondered where Steve had been and watched surreptitiously as Steve removed his jacket. Steve didn’t notice when some photographs fell from his pocket, but Bucky did. When he moved into the kitchen, Bucky stood up and walked over to where they had fallen by the coat hook to pick them up. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t pictures of naked men. “Where did you get these?” he asked, more accusingly than he’d meant to. 

Steve looked over, confused. “Get what?” 

Bucky held up the pictures and Steve’s eyes widened. He marched over and snatched them from Bucky’s grasp. “A friend.”

“A friend,” Bucky said. 

“Yes, and it’s not what you think. I want them to help with my drawing.”

“Really?” Bucky couldn’t help but be amused by how flustered Steve was. His face had gone bright red. 

“Yes.”

“What kind of friend was it?”

“Not that kind, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I was just asking,” Bucky said. “Can I have another look at them?”

Steve looked suspicious but handed them over. Bucky took them and walked back to the couch to sit down. Steve followed closely behind.

“I like this one,” Bucky said. Steve sat down beside him and leaned over to look. The picture was of a lean, fair headed man. He stood proudly naked, with his hands on his hips. Bucky was getting hard. “Can I borrow this?”

Steve looked up. “Now?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand over the bulge in his slacks. Maybe it was because he’d gotten used to never having any goddamn privacy in the army. Or maybe it was because, for whatever reason, he wanted Steve to see him. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go into the bedroom.”

Steve had noticed what Bucky was doing and he stared. “No. I can go in there. I’ll give you some privacy.” He didn’t move. 

Bucky pressed the heel of him palm down harder and gasped. “It would be less awkward if we both did it,” Bucky said. “I don’t know if I could get off if you were just in the other room waiting for me to finish.”

Steve laughed nervously. “Okay.” He shifted in his seat and Bucky could see he too was already hard. 

Bucky fumbled with his belt buckle, but got it undone fairly quickly. He shimmied out of his slacks but left his boxers on, suddenly not bold enough to be completely naked, even though Steve had seen him that way before. He snuck his hand inside his boxers and began to stroke. 

He had laid the photograph on his thigh, but found what Steve was doing more interesting. He’d pushed his boxers down exposing his firm dick and grasped it tight. Bucky moaned at the sight. He tilted his head back and rested it on the back of the couch. He hoped it looked like his eyes were closed, but he had them open just a bit and watched Steve jerk himself in his peripheral vision. Bucky couldn’t help thrust up into his fist. The only sound in the room was their gasps and hands on skin. After only a few moments, Bucky felt the heat of his climax approaching. 

He noticed the movement of Steve’s hand had increased and saw him suddenly cave in on himself, shaking. Bucky gave two final thrusts of his hips and then he was coming, spurting across his chest. He slowly ran his hand along his dick several more times before letting it fall to the side. 

Steve took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Bucky. “It’s clean,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” Bucky said as he took it. He cleaned the mess from his chest and then watched as Steve took it back, wiping up his own mess. Despite his sated body Bucky felt another tingling of desire at the thought of Steve getting some of Bucky’s spunk on himself with the handkerchief. 

Bucky handed the photograph back to Steve whose hand shook a little as he took it. Bucky stood and walked over to the sink. He ran his hand under the tap and casually said, “What should we make for dinner?”

Steve stood up and fastened his belt. “You decide. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky said as he poked around in the cupboard, not looking at Steve as he left the room.

♣

On Bucky’s lunch break he looked around the department store for a birthday present for Rebecca. He wound up in the children's department, which of course he knew she was too old for, but he was drawn to it. He loved the cheerfulness and innocence of the children’s department. It made him forget about all the bad things in the world, if just for a moment.

He picked up a small stuffed bunny rabbit that caught his eye. He smiled as he remembered how much Steve enjoyed the animals in _Bambi_. When he put the toy down, he noticed a stack of small white books. He picked one up and looked at the cover, which had a rabbit wearing a little blue coat. He opened it but had trouble turning the pages, so he laid it down so he could hold it open with one hand. He wondered, if he gave something like this to Steve, maybe he’d get to see that delighted smile again. 

It was a relatively inexpensive book, so Bucky bought it, and was eager to get home to give it to Steve. He completely forgot about finding a present for Rebecca.

“I got you something,” he said as soon as Steve walked in the door that night. 

Steve smiled as he took the paper bag from Bucky. “What for?”

Bucky’s pleased grin faded a little. “I don’t know,” he said. It only just occurred to him that it might seem strange for him to buy a present for Steve for no reason. His birthday was months ago. He’d simply bought it because he wanted to. He wanted to make Steve happy. “I just thought you’d like it, is all.”

Steve pulled the book out of the bag. “Peter Rabbit.” Bucky watched as Steve slowly turned the pages.

“It’s just a dumb kids book,” Bucky said.

“No… I love it. Thank you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The drawings are so lifelike, but the rabbits are acting like humans. It’s really sweet. Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s chest swelled with happiness. “Well, one day you’re going to be working for Walt Disney. Maybe whenever you look at this book you’ll remember me. Even when you’re living it up in Hollywood.”

Steve smiled. “I’ll always remember you,” he said, before taking his sketchbook, and the Peter Rabbit book, and climbing out the window to sit on the fire escape.

“Don’t stay out there too long,” Bucky yelled after him. “It’s getting cold. You don’t want to die of pneumonia before you even get to California.”

When Bucky woke up the next morning, there was a piece of paper on his pillow beside his head. He grabbed it and held it in front of his bleary eyes. Steve had made him a card. There was a drawing of a rabbit looking into a mirror and holding a comb. He was wearing a shirt, slacks, and suspenders. There was a speech bubble beside his head that said “How does my hare look?” Bucky laughed. Inside, Steve had written: _This is how I imagine you if you were a woodland creature. Thank you for the book. Steve._

art by [ewburnthatshit](http://ewburnthatshit.tumblr.com/)

Bucky grinned. “Wise guy.” He brought the paper to his face, hoping to catch Steve’s scent. He thought there was a touch of it there, but it could have been all in his mind. He glanced over at Steve’s bed, just to make sure he wasn’t there, watching him do such a strange thing. He stuffed the card under his pillow and sighed, not understanding why he suddenly felt so glum.

♣

Bucky was sitting with Thomas in the lunchroom one day, listening to him talk about the new girl in the cosmetics department. Suddenly, Thomas stopped talking and started coughing. Bucky thumped him on the back. “You gotta chew your food, buddy, not inhale it.”

“That’s her,” Thomas choked out.

Bucky looked in the direction Thomas pointed to. “Wow.” Thomas hadn’t been lying about her beauty. She had raven hair, pale skin, striking eyebrows, and full lips that perfectly complemented her angular features. She sat down at a table with some other girls.

Bucky stood up.

“You’re not…” Thomas said, trailing off at the determined look on Bucky’s face. His eyes looked especially bug-like as he stared at Bucky in astonishment through his thick lensed glasses. 

Bucky was almost as surprised himself. But he felt a thrill as he looked over at her. He’d done this before. He could do it now. “I am,” he said. He was trying to get his life back, and this was what he did before the war. 

He strolled over and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and looked him over. He shifted uncomfortably when her eyes landed on his empty sleeve. “Do you like music?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Music, do you like it?”

She raised a perfect eyebrow. “Well, yes.”

“How about dancing?”

A slight smile appeared on her lips. “Yes.”

His nerves simultaneously dimmed with relief but erupted with what he was about to say. “Well, maybe you and I could go dancing some time.”

“Could we?” she said. 

“How about Friday?”

She smiled. “All right then.”

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Your name badge says James.”

He winked. “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.” _What friends_? A nagging voice in his head asked. He glanced at her name badge, trying not to let his gaze linger on her chest. “I guess that makes you Brenda.”

“I guess it does.” Bucky liked that she flirted back. He felt like his old self again. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy your break. Ladies.” He heard a few titters as he walked away. It took every ounce of self control he had not to run back to his table. Thomas looked at him in awe when he returned to his seat, and Bucky felt pretty pleased with himself. Not just because he’d got a date with a beautiful woman, but that he’d even asked her. 

He wanted to tell Steve about it when he got home but Steve didn’t come home until after Bucky had gone to bed that night. He’d done that a few times. The first time Bucky got really mad at him because he’d been worried something had happened to him, especially after Bucky had discovered Steve was prone to getting into scuffles with strangers. 

Bucky heard Steve come in and knew Steve would have listened if Bucky got up to tell him about Brenda, but by that point he didn’t much feel like it. He always got a little nettled when Steve went out on his own. He knew that wasn’t fair. Bucky was still a new friend and Steve was under no obligation to spend all his time with him. Still, he thought it best to pretend he was asleep and hope he would be in a better mood the next morning. 

But Steve was still in bed when Bucky left for work. Even though Steve started work later and only had to travel down the road, he often got up at the same time as Bucky. Bucky was disappointed he wouldn’t be able to talk to him over their morning coffee. He didn’t wake him, but made sure Steve’s alarm clock was working before he left. 

He sat with Brenda at lunch that day. He told her all about the Agatha Christie novel he’d finished reading the night before. He knew he was prattling on and could tell she wasn’t that interested, even though she nodded and smiled as he spoke. “I guessed he was the killer. Anyway, I know I just told you what happens, but it was a really good book. You should read it,” he finished.

“Sure,” she said. “Uh, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m staying with my cousin right now, and I’d feel awfully bad about going out on Friday night and leaving her at home all by herself.”

Bucky knew Steve would object but he still didn’t hesitate to volunteer him as a partner. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll bring my roommate along. He loves dancing just as much as I do,” he lied. “It’ll be great.”

She beamed at him. “Oh wonderful!” She leaned forward. “I’m so looking forward to it.”

Bucky got a whiff of her perfume and his heart skipped a beat. “Me too.”

Steve asked him why he was smiling so much over dinner that night. “I’ve got a date this weekend,” Bucky said. 

“Oh.” Steve looked down at his plate. “Congratulations.”

“Actually. Um.” Steve looked up again, expectantly. “I said we could double date. She couldn’t leave her cousin by herself.”

Steve made a face. “Bucky.”

“It’s just dancing, Steve. You don’t have to kiss her or anything.”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Steve said.

“You don’t need to dance with her. You can just talk. It’s just a few hours. Please, Steve.”

He saw Steve give in by the look on his face before he even said it. “Fine.”

Bucky grinned. “Thanks, man. Thanks a lot. Here, I’ll wash up.”

♣

On Saturday night, he and Steve headed to the Hamilton Diner where they were going to meet the girls for a bite to eat before they headed to the dance hall. They got there nice and early and found a booth by the window. They ordered a couple of milkshakes and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

First, Bucky thought the girls were justing running late. “Probably just some drama with their hair,” he said to Steve, who nodded. Then he thought something terrible must have happened to them. “What if they got run over by a bus?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Bucky. Probably just running late, like you said.”

Then he was angry. He and Steve had been waiting for over an hour and the girls never showed. “I don’t think they’re coming,” finally Steve said in a quiet voice.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just waved the waitress over. He’d been saving up for a night out. Since he was there he thought he might as well buy a burger. “Do you want anything?” he asked Steve. Steve shook his head. “My treat,” Bucky said.

“I’m fine.” He still had half his milkshake left. Bucky ordered some fries in the hopes he could get Steve to eat a few of them. They didn’t say much as they waited for Bucky’s food. Bucky refused to even glance at the window. There was no point. The girls weren’t coming.

The waitress put the fries in the middle of the table and placed Bucky’s burger in front of him. “And one liberty steak for you,” she said. Bucky rolled his eyes when she turned her back. 

“Here,” he said, pushing the fries at Steve. “You need to eat more.”

“No I don’t,” Steve said. But he took some.

The burger was too big for Bucky to comfortably eat with one hand, but he couldn’t exactly eat it with a knife and fork either. “You could cut it in half,” Steve said. “It might be easier that way. I could—”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need my food cut up for me.”

“Sorry. I know you’re not. Sorry.”

Bucky sighed. “It’s okay.” He picked up his knife and cut the burger in half. “Want half?” Steve shook his head, but ate another fry.

Bucky felt like everyone in the diner was watching him as he awkwardly ate his burger leaning over the plate in case he dropped anything. He wasn’t even enjoying it, but he didn’t know if it was because the burger just wasn’t good, or if his mood was too foul. He wiped the ketchup off his face with the back of his hand. 

He thought he’d been doing so well, but the whole evening just kept reminding him things would never be like the way they were before. He hated being looked at through the prism of his disability. He just wanted to be Bucky. 

When they were outside, Bucky lit a cigarette and headed in the direction of their apartment building, rather than the bus stop, which would’ve gotten them home faster. Steve didn’t say anything, just walked alongside him. “If she didn’t want to go out with me, she should have just said, instead of standing us up like idiots,” Bucky finally burst out. “I’m not good enough for her because I’ve got one arm? Before the war, I swear, I could get any dame to go on a date with me.”

“Really.” Steve said. He sounded disinterested.

“Okay, fine. Not any dame. But a lot.” His confidence had been shaken even further by this. He’d always had his ego boosted by girls in the past. “Why aren’t you more upset?” he asked Steve.

Steve shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up.”

“What?” Bucky didn’t understand that.

“Girls don’t like me.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.” Bucky found Steve appealing, why wouldn’t girls?

Steve chuckled. “Well, I guess I’m not very good at talking to them.”

“I thought I was,” Bucky said.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Buck. You’ll find someone even better.”

They were quiet for a while. “Maybe they can tell you aren’t really interested in them,” Bucky said.

“What?”

“Girls. You don’t like them.”

“Bucky! Keep your voice down, will you?”

“Sorry.” He looked around, but they were alone.

Steve sighed. “You’re probably right.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know why he’d brought it up at all. So they walked the rest of the way home in silence. 

Once they were inside their apartment, Steve spoke again. “If you want to go dancing so much, we can do it here.”

“Huh?”

“I know we don’t have any music, but dance with me. I’m not very good but…” 

Even in the dim light of the lamp Bucky could see Steve’s cheeks were pink. He was touched, but shook his head. “You don’t wanna dance with a cripple like me.”

“Yes I do,” he said firmly. He took a step forward, and Bucky found himself doing the same thing, even when he hadn’t told his body to do so. Steve rested his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky let his hand fall to Steve’s waist. They started moving and Steve stood on Bucky’s toe. “Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He started humming.

“Teach me how to dance, Buck,” Steve said quietly. But they weren’t dancing, they were just standing there, swaying gently to Bucky’s voice. He pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder and inhaled his scent. He could hear Steve’s breath quickening in his ear.

He felt himself hardening. “Sorry,” he mumbled and pulled away, but Steve held him close and thrust his hips forward. Bucky gasped and pushed back. He could feel Steve stiffening too. He moved Steve towards the door, and when his back was against it, he maneuvered his hips so that his clothed length lined up with Steve’s and pushed against him. Steve moaned and his hands moved down from where he’d been gripping Bucky’s shoulders, to Bucky’s belt. He unfastened it and and shoved a hand into Bucky’s underwear. 

Bucky whined and reached for the door, for something to keep him steady. He thrust into the fist Steve made with his hand. His head fell back. God, it felt so good, he could already feel the pressure building. He looked down and moved his hand away from the door so he could start undoing Steve’s belt. But once he had his hand around Steve, he struggled to remain balanced without anything to hold onto and the way Steve was touching him made his knees weak. 

He suddenly had an idea. He sunk to his knees and pulled Steve’s dick from his underwear. He’d thought about doing this to a guy ever since the first time a girl had done it for him. 

“Wait,” Steve said. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” His hips twitched as if they were disagreeing.

“Why?”

“It might make things awkward between us.”

“How? We’ve already... you know.”

“I know,” Steve said. “But... Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

It was Bucky’s turn to hesitate. He didn’t know what he was doing. He tightened his hand around Steve’s dick and pumped it a few times. He looked up to see Steve close his eyes and lean his head back. Without Steve watching him, he tentatively poked his tongue out and swirled it around the tip. Steve moaned and pushed his hips forward. Feeling more confident, Bucky sucked it into his mouth, then released it again. He liked it, so he took more the next time. Steve thrust forward again and Bucky gagged a little, but didn’t lose focus, just held Steve’s hip against the door. His pace quickened as Steve’s grunts grew needier and needier. “Bucky,” he warned, tapping him on the head, but Bucky kept going until Steve was filling his mouth. 

He swallowed quickly, unsure if he liked the taste. He stood up and pulled his dick out. Steve reached for him with shaking hands and it only took a couple of thrusts into Steve’s fist and he was coming. They stood there panting for a few minutes before Bucky said, “I’m going to take a shower.” He grabbed his towel and bathrobe and practically ran from the room.

♣

Bucky felt guilty, but it _had_ made things weird, and he knew why on his part. It was because he liked it a lot. Too much. Maybe he wanted more from Steve, but the thought of ever telling him that terrified him. It obviously hadn’t meant anything to Steve and Bucky didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Besides, Steve was too good for a sad sack like him. He’d probably just given in to Bucky out of pity. He was too kind to Bucky, even when Bucky was being a moody bastard.

He barely spoke to Steve the rest of the weekend, and couldn’t look him in the eye. He was relieved when it was Monday again, but then he realised he would have to see Brenda. He’d all but forgotten about her after what had happened with Steve. 

It was Thursday by the time he actually spoke to her. By that point in the week, Bucky was in a terrible mood. They were still living in awkward silence at home, and he hadn’t even gone to visit his parents because he knew they would ask him what was wrong. He’d been glaring daggers at Brenda every time he saw her in the breakroom, but was otherwise ignoring her. But on Thursday evening she cornered him in the stockroom at the end of his shift. “What do you want?” he said.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she said. He grunted disbelievingly and busied himself with a stack of papers. “I wanted to go out with you. We even went all the way there, but my cousin backed out.”

He looked up. “ _What_?”

“We saw you in the window, with your friend, and she…”

His nostrils flared in anger. “She what?”

“She didn’t like the look of him.”

He literally saw splotches of red come into his vision. Like he’d just stared at a lamp too long and then closed his eyes. Except his eyes were open and Brenda was actually standing there saying that to him. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Well, he was very small.”

“So fucking what?” he demanded. “He’s still handsome. He’s kind and loyal. Not that she even gave him a chance to show that. Well, he’s too good for your cousin anyway. I’m glad he wasn’t _subjected_ to her.”

“You don’t know her!”.

“You don’t know him either!” he yelled.

Brenda closed her eyes and took a breath. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she said. “I still want to go out with you. Maybe we could go, just the two of us. I shouldn’t have suggested she come along.”

“Forget about it,” Bucky said. “And you can tell your cousin she’s a real bitch.”

Brenda huffed and her hands bunched into fists by her sides. “ _You_ are a swine Bucky Barnes!” She turned and stormed from the room. Bucky threw the stack of papers on the floor, then swore as he stooped down to collect them again.

Brenda was probably right, but he couldn’t seem to care. A part of him felt bad, but another part still felt like she deserved what he’d said. He didn’t feel bad enough to fix it anyway. He realised the only person he wanted to make things right with was Steve. 

He didn’t used to get into arguments with people all the time. He’d been easy going and a lot more gregarious, but he’d come to the realisation he just wasn’t the man he used to be. Of course, the foundation was the same, but he couldn’t ignore that he’d changed. He could mourn for that man, but he had to accept it, and learn to live with his new sense of self. To be comfortable with himself again, even if he wasn’t the same. He felt that way when he visited his family, and he felt that way when he was in his apartment, whether alone, or with Steve. He was slowly starting to feel that way outside of home too. When he sat on the bus with the other commuters, when he stood in line at the store waiting for his groceries to be rung up, when he agreed to after work drinks with Thomas. His anxiety about doing those things was fading. 

His friendship with Steve was a lot more important to him now than being a popular guy. He was sick of avoiding him. He wanted his friend back. On the way home he rehearsed what he would say in his head.

When he walked in the door, he saw Steve sitting on the couch reading a book. There was a plate of food sitting on the table. Frankfurters, baked beans, and asparagus. “Is this for me?” Bucky asked. Steve looked up and nodded. “Thanks.”

He picked up the plate and took it over to the couch and sat down. He shoveled in a few mouthfuls of beans before he spoke. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting so weird.” He didn’t want to bring up the reason why, so he said something that wasn’t quite true. “I’ve just been in a bad mood about being stood up the other night. I had a huge fight with Brenda over it today. Anyway, that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He stabbed a frankfurter with his fork and took a big bite, not looking at Steve.

“That’s okay,” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not. But thanks.” He finally glanced at Steve, who smiled at him, and he felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. “Hey, what are you reading?” he asked.

“Oh,” Steve looked down at the book that was lying forgotten on his lap. “I got it from the library. It’s called _The Call of the Wild_.” His cheeks went pink. “Actually, the main character is named Buck.”

Bucky laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s a dog”

Bucky laughed again. He sat back and ate his dinner, listening while Steve told him what had happened in the story so far. 

The next day at work, all the girls seemed to know what had happened and none of them were being very friendly towards him.

“Phew, what have you done?” Thomas asked him. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, shrugging. “I don’t care if they all hate me.” And he really didn’t. He was just glad he and Steve were friends again.

♣

“What movie are we seeing tonight, Steve?”

“ _You Were Never Lovelier_.”

Bucky made a face. “That sounds like a boring romance.”

“It’s a romance, but how do you know it’ll be boring? It has Rita Hayworth in it.”

“Oh.” Bucky felt his cheeks warm up. Did Steve know about the picture of Rita Hayworth he kept in his sock drawer? “Well, all right.”

Bucky spent too long, as he always did, in front of the mirror, combing his hair just right. So they ended up having to hurry to the theatre. When they had found some seats, it became very apparent that this was the movie to come and see with your sweetheart. All around them, couples were leaning into each other, whispering and giggling. Bucky slouched down in his seat. He glanced at Steve, wondering if he’d noticed too. He thought Steve looked a little uncomfortable, but that wasn’t exactly unusual for him. Bucky slouched further into his seat. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He would just have to wait it out.

Before the movie started playing, they played an army recruitment commercial. Bucky watched from the corner of his eye as Steve was entranced by the bombast. Bucky hated the war propaganda under normal circumstances, but this time his whole body tensed up. The memory of him losing his arm came back to him, much more vivid than it had been for months. Steve appeared in the vision in an army uniform, looking down at him while bombs exploded above him. He knew it wasn’t real but his breathing was sharp and he couldn’t get it under control. 

“Bucky. Bucky.” Steve said. He shook him. “Bucky.”

He was in the movie theatre again. It was dark, but he could see Steve’s face by the light of the screen. He looked scared. Bucky looked down to where he had his hand wrapped tight around Steve’s wrist. He dropped it. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “What did I do?”

“Shh!” someone hissed. Bucky flinched.

“Nothing,” Steve whispered. “You did nothing wrong. Do you want to get out of here?”

Bucky looked at the screen. The movie had already started. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further by having to walk past a bunch of people. He shook his head. 

“Tell me if you change your mind,” Steve said. “I don’t mind leaving.”

Bucky stared at the screen and waited and hoped for the movie to capture his interest. It did a decent job, though there were times when his mind wandered. He was very aware of Steve turning to look at him every five or so minutes, presumably to check he was all right. 

He tried to act like nothing unusual had happened when they got out onto the street after the movie was over. “Rita Hayworth is the perfect woman, don’t you think?” he said, as they walked down the sidewalk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful dame than her.” 

Steve looked at Bucky, his face surprised. Bucky busied himself by lighting a cigarette. “She’s beautiful,” Steve offered eventually. He looked at the ground as he walked. 

He couldn’t have Steve bring up what happened, so he kept talking. “Rita Hayworth. I’d marry her in a second. I sure do like Lucille Ball too. Do you like Lucille Ball, Steve?” Steve just grunted. “Steve?”

Steve gave him an exasperated look. “Sure, yes. I like her. Just… I’m tired, Bucky.”

“You work too hard.”

“No, I don’t. I work just as much as you.”

Bucky didn’t reply because he knew Steve got annoyed when Bucky worried over his health. He felt a bit like a hypocrite anyway. He had no right to worry over Steve when he wouldn’t let Steve worry about him.

♣

It was Bucky’s day off, and he was bored. He wished Steve had that day off too so they could do something fun together. Instead, he was sitting at home feeling restless. He wandered through the apartment for something to do and noticed their laundry hamper was overflowing. He and Steve usually did their laundry together but he was so bored he decided he would try and do it himself. He dug through the hamper for the light coloured clothing and noticed a piece of paper coming out of the pocket of a pair of Steve’s slacks.

“Aw, Steve. Not again.” He sighed as he pulled out the paper with the big 4F. “Paramus? Really?” Bucky didn’t feel angry about it any more. He was just sad that Steve was still doing this. That he felt he had to prove himself. It must’ve been why he’d been so surly the last few days. He didn’t mention it when Steve got home that evening. He thought Steve might assume he’d been snooping, even though Steve had been appreciative of Bucky for doing the laundry and would have understood that Bucky came across the paper by accident. Maybe Bucky just didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to get in another fight with Steve about it. 

After dinner, they spent an hour or so setting up mouse traps around their apartment. They’d had a problem with them over the last couple of weeks. They heard them scurrying around at night and their boxes of food had been nibbled on. 

“Poor little fellas,” Steve said as they finished with the last one. 

Bucky turned to him. “Steve, I swear to God if you’ve been keeping them as pets…”

Steve laughed. “No! No, I haven’t. I just feel bad for them. They can’t help being mice.”

Bucky’s heart softened. “I know, but we can’t have them eating our food and ruining our stuff. And they’re dirty. They’ve probably got diseases.” God, that was the last thing Steve needed. 

“I know,” Steve said with a sigh. Bucky couldn’t believe the guy being so sensitive about the welfare of mice was the same guy who was so determined to go to war. “We could get a cat,” Steve suggested.

“I don’t think a cat would be very concerned with killing the mice humanely either.”

“I guess not. But having a cat might be nice anyway.”

“But who will look after it when you’ve gone off to Hollywood?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s not like that’s ever going to happen.”

Bucky gave him a thoughtful look. He was glad Steve seemed to be in a better mood and he didn’t want to risk upsetting him. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

♣

Thomas had a big grin on his face when he sat across from Bucky at the lunch table. “I’m getting married,” he said.

Bucky was surprised. He knew Thomas had a girl but didn’t realise it was that serious. “What? Wow. Congratulations.”

“Thanks!” 

He looked so happy. Bucky felt a sting of jealousy, but he squashed it. “We should get a drink after work to celebrate,” he said.

“Okay, but I can’t stay out too late.”

Bucky hung around after work, waiting for Thomas’ shift to finish. They took the bus back to Brooklyn Heights, but got off before Bucky’s usual stop and headed to a bar where they had cheap booze.

“Man, it’s too cold for this,” Thomas grumbled as they walked down the street with the icy wind whipping across their cheeks. 

Bucky grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll get a few drinks in ya. Then you’ll be nice and toasty.”

The bar was crowded, but they found a small table in the corner. Bucky’d become more comfortable around rowdy crowds, but he always had the fear people would try to talk to him about the war, so he still avoided them when he could. But no one that night was paying any attention to Bucky. He ordered the first round of drinks at the bar, then had to hold them close to his body with his arm to transport them both to the table in one go, and no one around him seemed to notice or offer assistance. He was grateful for it.

Thomas knocked back drinks faster than Bucky was expecting. Despite his earlier protests, he was obviously aiming to get drunk. Bucky listened as he told him all about Claire, his fiance. It was all he wanted to talk about. How pretty she was, and how he never could’ve got a girl like that before the war. 

That made Bucky uncomfortable. “Of course you would’ve,” he said. 

Thomas shook his head. “I doubt it.” But he changed the subject. 

Thomas said he would get the next round but when he stood up, he veered to the side. “Whoa, maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” Bucky said. “Come on let’s go get some fresh air.”

They leaned against some railings and looked out over the water, where the East River met the Hudson. “I can’t believe I’m going to get married,” Thomas said. He shivered and rubbed his arms. 

Bucky moved closer, hoping to shield him a bit from the wind. “Why?”

Thomas looked at him curiously, like the question was unexpected. “I don’t know. It’ll just be a big change, that’s all.” Bucky nodded. “What about you?” Thomas asked.

“What about me?”

“When do you plan on settling down?”

Bucky laughed bitterly, and stared down at the waves. “Who knows if that will ever happen.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bucky looked back up at Thomas. He hadn’t realised how close they were, huddled together against the cold. Their faces were now just inches apart. He leaned over and pressed his lips against Thomas’. 

Thomas shoved his chest, hard. “What are you doing?”

He recoiled. “Nothing. Sorry.” His face burned, his heart pounded, and his feet itched to run.

“I’m not like that,” Thomas said. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and looked around, but they were the only two people crazy enough to be outside, and it was dark but for a few lights from the outside of the buildings. 

“I know. Neither am I.”

“I’m getting married.”

“I know.” They were silent for what felt like an eternity. Bucky was thankful Thomas hadn’t run off screaming. Or punched him. But now he didn’t know what to say. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” he said eventually.

“Why in hell would I do that?”

“I mean… about me.”

Thomas sighed and looked back out over the water. “I won’t.”

Bucky exhaled with relief. “Thank you. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had too much to drink.”

“Aren’t there…” Thomas gestured and Bucky could see the discomfort on his face, even in the dim light. “You know, places you can go?”

Bucky laughed nervously. “Yeah. Of course. Not that I’m… And obviously you aren’t… you aren’t—”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Right.” He glanced furtively at Thomas. “Can we still be friends?” Maybe it was too much to ask, but he didn’t want to lose the only real friend he had, other than Steve. 

Thomas shoved him playfully. “Yeah. Just don’t try anythin’ again.”

He knew he was lucky. It could have gone a lot worse. So much worse. It was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. 

“I better go,” Thomas said. 

“Will you get home all right?” Bucky asked, though Thomas didn’t seem very drunk any more. 

“I’ll be fine. But... what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

He watched as Thomas walked off to either catch a bus or cab home. Bucky should have done that too, but he wandered around feeling sorry for himself until suddenly he was in front of the queer bar where he’d first met Steve. He wondered if maybe Steve was inside. Bucky guessed this was where he came on the nights when he didn’t come home. 

Steve wasn’t there, but there were plenty of men who looked Bucky’s way. He wasn’t sure if it was from interest, or just curiosity about his appearance. He couldn’t remember if the attention he’d received the last time he was there was the same.

He didn’t really find the first man who approached him very attractive, though he couldn’t explain why because he was traditionally very handsome. Maybe he was just hoping for someone a little more like Thomas. Or like Steve. But he went up the stairs and into an alley with him anyway. 

The man leaned in to kiss him but he turned his face away. Unperturbed, the man moved to suck his neck instead. He started unbuttoning Bucky’s jacket but Bucky pushed his hands away. Not because of the cold, but because he didn’t want this man to see what was underneath, though the light in the alley would have hardly provided him with much of a chance. 

He turned and pushed the man against the wall instead. He fell to his knees. Without being asked, the man undid his belt buckle and fly. Bucky was glad he did because he didn’t think he could’ve done it himself in that moment. The man pulled out his dick and Bucky didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around it, but he did close his eyes. He expected the man to thrust into his mouth, the way Steve had, but there was not even a small twitch of his hips. His hand rested limply on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky moved his mouth rhythmically up and down, trying his best to elicit some energy from the man. He didn’t know if what he was doing was actually any good. 

The man let out a few moans but Bucky thought they sounded fake and not an indication he was enjoying it. With Steve, Bucky had known he was enjoying it. He’d known every little grunt had been genuine. Finally, the man started moving, which Bucky guessed meant it was just about over. He felt a spark of desire as his mouth filled. He liked that part, and became eager for the guy to suck him off too.

He stood up and the man reached toward his belt buckle. He undid it and shoved his hand into Bucky’s pants, making him harder. It felt good, but Bucky wondered if he was only going to use his hand. He maneuvered them so that he was the one leaning against the wall and nudged at the man’s shoulders a little. The man laughed and sank to his knees. When he took Bucky into his mouth, Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell back against the wall a little too hard, but he didn’t care. “Ahh.”

The guy was good, taking Bucky all the way to the back of his throat. Bucky wasn’t sure if he would appreciate it if he thrust in, but he could barely control his hips as they drove forward. When there was no complaint, he let go completely, and as the pressure built with every thrust, images of Steve slipped into his mind. Steve jerking off beside him on the couch. Steve walking around their bedroom with no shirt on. Steve letting Bucky suck him off. He imagined it was Steve sucking him when he came hard. 

He could faintly hear the man get to his feet again, and spit, but the pounding of his pulse was deafening. He breathed heavily and slowly opened his eyes. The man looked at him and reached out to pat his arm. “Hey, thanks,” he said and turned to walk out of the alley, still doing up his slacks. Bucky didn’t respond but when the quiet around him finally came back into focus, he wasn’t sure why he was left feeling so disappointed. It wasn’t like he wanted to see that guy again, but he almost felt more dissatisfied than if he’d had nothing at all. 

He wondered if it was like this for Steve, when he came here. It felt lonely.

♣

It was nuts at the store before Christmas, but Bucky didn’t mind because of the overtime. He thought a lot about the presents he would be able to buy. He went straight to his parents place one night after work to help decorate the Christmas tree. When his ma had first suggested it, he’d told her he didn’t want to, but she’d said, “Don’t act like you don’t like Christmas anymore James. Please,” and genuinely looked like she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Where’s Rebecca?” he asked as he sat down to eat dinner.

“She’s out with her new boyfriend,” his ma said.

“What? But the tree! It’s tradition.”

“I know, honey, but she said he got them tickets to some Christmas show at the last minute.”

Bucky huffed and stabbed at a lima bean. “So it’s just us.”

His dad laughed. “Is that so bad?”

Bucky looked up. “Well, no, but. I should have asked Steve to come or something.”

“That would have been nice,” his ma said. His ma loved Steve. “He’s like part of the family now, isn’t he?” She looked to Bucky’s dad who nodded his head. “Make sure you ask him if he wants to spend Christmas day with us.”

Bucky nodded. “I will.”

When they finished dinner they got started on the tree. His dad already had it standing in the corner, with the armchair pushed to the side. Bucky wondered who had helped him get it up to their floor. His ma knelt down and opened up the dusty box of ornaments and they began placing them on the tree, sipping eggnog and listening to the wireless while they worked. 

“Oh,” his ma said and Bucky turned to see her pulling their Christmas stockings from the bottom of the box. “Here,” she said and handed him the stocking he’d used every year since he could remember. “You should take this home to hang up in your apartment.”

“Ma. That’s a kids thing.”

“Go on. I know you still like Christmas.”

“Of course I still like Christmas,” he said immediately. “But don’t you want to keep it here?”

She shook her head and looked down at it. Her thumb moving unconsciously over the woolen snowflake print. “You should have it.”

“Ma?”

“Yes?”

“I’m... I’m doing a lot better now.” He looked away and hung up a little wooden rocking horse.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” she said. She stood up and rubbed his arm, then handed him an ornament shaped like a reindeer. Bucky smiled, remembering Steve’s love of _Bambi_. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to ask Steve to come along. Next year he would. He hoped they would still be friends next year. 

His dad patted him on the back. “Tree’s looking good,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, and placed the reindeer just below the angel at the top.

When he got home, Steve was on the couch drawing, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “What’s that?” he asked when Bucky took the stocking he’d had tucked under his arm and placed it on the table. 

“My Christmas stocking. Ma made me bring it home to hang up here.” 

Steve grinned and flung the blanket off his shoulders. He ran into the bedroom. Bucky could hear him rooting around in the closet where he’d put his mother’s boxes, until he returned holding a Christmas stocking of his own. “I still have mine too,” he said.

Bucky grinned. “Let’s hang them up then.” 

They didn’t have a fireplace but they hung them up over the window. “They’ll look nice from the outside this way,” Steve said. “Not that anyone will see them.” 

“Um, Santa?” Bucky said. Steve laughed. “Hey, you’re having Christmas with us right?” He wanted it to come out like it was completely obvious Steve would spend Christmas with him and his family. He’d spent Thanksgiving with them. 

Steve ceased his fiddling with the stockings and looked over at him. “Really?”

“Of course, dummy. You’re part of the family now. My ma said so.” 

“She did?” He looked like there was a tear threatening to fall from his lashes. 

Bucky looked down. “Yeah. I think she might like you more than me.”

Steve chuckled. “I’ll be there.”

♣

On the week leading up to Christmas Bucky collected things to put into Steve’s stocking. Colouring pencils, a peppermint stick, and a little ceramic cat. He still hadn’t agreed to the real thing yet.

When the morning came, they got up early and sat on the couch, snuggled up in blankets and drinking coffee as they exchanged gifts. Steve beamed at him as he took the items out of his stocking and Bucky felt a tightening in his chest. 

Steve gave him a Christmas card he’d drawn with woodland creatures standing around a snowy Christmas tree wearing woolen sweaters and hats. He also gave him a pulp magazine and a bright red scarf. “I saw the colour and thought it would look good on you,” he said. 

Bucky, embarrassingly, felt his cheeks grow warm, and thought they would start to match the colour of the scarf any second. He wrapped it around himself, all the way up to his mouth, hoping to somewhat hide his blushing. “How do I look?”

Steve laughed. “Like one of Santa’s helpers. I guess working in a department store, you kind of are.” That made Bucky smile. He hadn’t thought of it like that, but it was nice to know he was partly responsible for lots of happy children that day. 

They went to mass at ten o’clock, then went home again before heading over to Bucky’s parents. “What’s this?” Bucky said, when he noticed a tall paper bag sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“Oh,” Steve said as he came out of the bedroom, putting on a pair of gloves. “A Christmas present. For your parents.” 

Bucky peeked inside and saw a bottle of wine. “Steve you didn’t have to do that, they know—”

“That I’m poor?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” He hoped Steve wasn’t going to change his mind about coming now. “I just meant, they don’t expect anything. That’s not why you were invited. They want you there. So do I.”

Steve picked up the bag. “I can afford this. I want to do it.”

It wouldn’t have been cheap. The price of alcohol had gone way up, and Bucky was pretty sure his job paid better than Steve’s, not that he ever asked. Steve always had his rent money and money for other shared expenses, and that was all Bucky needed to know. But he did worry when Steve took extra shifts at the grocery store. He hoped he hadn’t overworked himself to afford this gift. “They’ll love it,” he said. 

They bundled up—Bucky wearing his new scarf—and walked over to his parents apartment. Bucky had a big bag of gifts with him. When they were inside he laid the presents underneath the tree along with the ones that were already sitting there. 

Steve handed the bottle of wine to Bucky’s ma whose cheeks actually turned pink as she exclaimed her gratitude. Bucky liked how pleased they both looked. “I knew she’d love it,” he whispered to Steve when he took a seat beside him on the couch. 

“James, could you start handing out the presents, please?” his ma said.

“Sure,” he got down on the floor beside the tree.

“Finally,” Rebecca said. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

“Shush you,” his ma scolded. She sat on the arm of the chair his dad was sitting on and nodded at Bucky. He glanced at Steve who looked uncomfortable. Bucky guessed because Steve felt like he was intruding on a family ritual, but the first present he picked up had Steve’s name on it. It was light and soft. 

“Heads up,” he said and threw it in Steve’s direction. It hit Steve square in the face. “Ooh right on the kisser.”

“James stop horsing around. Is he like this at home, Steve? I’m very sorry.”

“Pretty much,” Steve said with a laugh.

But his Ma smiled. She was probably happy to see he was returning to his old nuisance self. At least, as much as he could. Bucky wasn’t sure if he even knew who that person was anymore. 

“Thank you so much,” Steve said when he revealed the pair of navy socks. Bucky’s parents also gave him a new sketchbook. They’d asked Bucky what Steve would like and that’s what he’d suggested. He’d noticed Steve was over three quarters of the way through the one he had, and it would go with the new pencils he’d given him. “This is too much,” Steve said.

“Don’t be silly,” Bucky’s ma said with a wave of her hand. 

“Thank you. I really appreciate this. I needed a new one.”

His ma caught Bucky’s eye and winked. He looked back and Steve was giving him a funny look. Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d caught that or not. 

“I really love it,” Steve said.

“I’m glad,” she said. 

Bucky got some socks too, as well as two new sweaters, and some books. After they’d opened their presents, they sat down for dinner. Steve, as always, had volunteered to help his ma bring the food out. 

“So how’s old—what’s his name again? Bob? Billy?” Bucky said to Rebecca.

“You mean Brad? He’s old news, Bucky.”

Bucky laughed. “Who is it now then?”

“Carl.”

“Carl. Right. Are you going through the alphabet?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What about you?” she said slyly. 

Bucky thought back to his disastrous attempt at dating with Brenda. And the even more disastrous encounter with Thomas. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Is that what you want?”

He couldn’t help but glance at Steve who was just coming into the room with a big bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. 

“I’m... fine with it,” he said quietly.

She looked at Steve too and for a horrified moment Bucky wondered if she had figured it out. But she just turned back to him and said, “You don’t need to rush into anything.”

Just then their dad took a seat at the head of the table and that was the end of that conversation, though Bucky was relieved. His ma opened up the wine Steve had brought and started pouring it into everyone’s glasses, but when she offered some to Steve, he declined.

“You don’t want any?” she asked, confused.

“No it was a gift to you all. You drink it.”

Bucky almost rolled his eyes. “Go on, Steve.”

“Yes, please have some,” she said. 

He looked at Bucky who nodded. “All right. Just a small glass. Thank you.”

After they’d eaten their fill of turkey, cranberry jelly, mashed potatoes and gravy, and peas. His ma brought out cookies. She’d been saving up sugar rations to make them. “And plum pudding. James’ favourite.” Bucky’d already eaten enough to give himself a stomach ache but when he saw that he suddenly had a lot more room left.

When dinner was over they sat in the living room nursing their distended bellies. Steve sat beside him on the couch. Rebecca on his other side. It was warm in the room but Bucky felt especially comfortable with Steve’s thigh pressed against his. Steve started drawing in his new sketchbook and Bucky wondered where he’d got the pencil. He must’ve had it with him. 

Bucky fell asleep to the low mumbles of his family. When Steve shook him awake later it was to tell him his ma said they could spend the night there. Bucky in his old bed and Steve on the couch cushions. Once they’d organised their beds and had turned off the light Steve whispered to Bucky that it had been the best Christmas he’d had in a long time. Bucky had to agree.

♣

They had the oven on for warmth and were sitting at the kitchen table, silent, but comfortable. Steve was drawing in his new sketchbook, with his new pencils, and Bucky was mending an old sock. The other day his big toe had poked a hole right through it. He was having some difficulty repairing it and could sense Steve watching him. He felt the agitation rising in his chest as he waited for Steve to say something, but he never did. And eventually Bucky finished repairing the sock himself. He fiddled with it for a moment before speaking. “I asked another girl out,” he said offhandedly. Apparently the girls at work had all decided to forgive him over Christmas and were talking to him again.

Steve quickly glanced up, then down again, busying himself with some details in his sketch. “Good for you, Buck.”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted in a response. But he didn’t actually know how he’d expected Steve to react. Maybe beg him not to go. To stay at home in bed with him. But that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t really planned on asking Vera out, but he was helping her organise some special deliveries and she’d been dropping hints about going out dancing. He figured, why not? He needed to get over this thing with Steve anyway.

“She wants to double date with another girl from work. I said I’d bring you.”

Steve sighed and looked up. “Bucky, I wish you hadn’t. I don’t want to go.”

Bucky huffed. “You’re such a Fuddy-Duddy.”

Steve frowned. “I am not.”

Suddenly, he was furious with Steve. He stood up sharply, his chair scraping across the floor. “Yes you are!” He threw his sock at Steve and stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. He immediately felt like a huge yuck. He stared at the closed door for a full minute before opening it again. Steve had laid his sock over one of the kitchen chairs. When he looked up, there was laughter in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Bucky said.

“Apology accepted.” Bucky sat down again. “I’ll go dancing with you, Buck,” Steve said.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smiled at Bucky before going back to his drawing. Bucky’s belly prickled with longing. With a mug like that how could he not be stuck on Steve? He was a fool.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He couldn’t tell Steve that he didn’t really want to go either.

♣

On the night of their date, Bucky put on his new jacket. He’d had his eye on it at work and was able to afford it when it went on sale after Christmas. It had a plaid vest and dark sleeves, which he liked because he thought that drew attention away from the fact he was missing one of his arms. Steve wore his grey jacket. Bucky wished he’d put on his blue one. He looked good in blue. But he didn’t want to criticise Steve’s attire when he’d graciously agreed to go dancing with him and a couple of girls he didn’t know.

Bucky decided it was best they meet the girls there, and half expected them not to show up, but they arrived right on time. Bucky took Vera’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You look lovely,” he said, and she giggled.

“This is my friend Steve.”

“Hello,” Vera said. 

“And this is Joan,” he said, introducing Steve to Vera’s friend.

Steve nodded to them. “Hello.”

Joan looked Steve over but smiled politely at him. “Hi.”

They found a table and Steve and Bucky went to the bar to get them drinks. When they sat down, Bucky searched his brain for something to talk about. They ended up complaining about work for a while but he couldn’t help but notice Steve’s silence. “Sorry,” Bucky said, “this is probably boring for you, Steve.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Where do you work, Steve?” Joan asked. 

“Grocery store.”

“Oh,” she said. Bucky didn’t like the judgment in her tone. 

Vera jumped in to ask him several questions about Steve’s job but after receiving only monosyllabic answers she changed the subject again. “Bucky, I thought we came here to dance,” she said. 

He grinned. “You’re right, we did.” He stood up and held out his hand for her to take. He led her onto the dancefloor. The lively song that was playing abruptly ended and the band started playing a slow number. All of a sudden Bucky didn’t know what to do with his arm. He hadn’t been out dancing since the night before he left for the war. Should he take her hand? Or put his hand on her waist? Neither he, nor Vera, knew exactly how to situate themselves, so they awkwardly stood and looked at each other. 

He’d hardly been aware of his missing arm when he’d danced with Steve in their apartment. He glanced over at Steve, still sitting at the table with Joan, and saw him watching them. Embarrassed, he stepped forward and put his hand on Vera’s waist. He pulled her close and they moved to the music but he couldn’t help glancing back at Steve. 

When a fast song started playing he was relieved, but although his body was moving in time with the music, it felt wrong. Every time he looked back at the table where Steve and Joan were sitting, he wished he was back there too. Luckily, Vera wanted to go back when the song was over, but she dragged him back out onto the dancefloor several more times throughout the night. Joan managed to get Steve to dance with her a couple of times too, but it was pretty obvious neither of them were enjoying themselves. The only person who seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself was Vera. She protested when Bucky suggested they call it a night, but since Steve and Joan both quickly agreed, she didn’t have much choice.

It hadn’t been a terrible night out. Vera was nice, but Bucky knew he wouldn’t take her out again, even if it caused him more problems with the girls at work. When he and Steve got back to their apartment he wondered if—hoped—maybe Steve would want to fool around again, but he said goodnight and got into bed, turning his back to the room. And Bucky.

♣

Bucky had found a book in the library about card tricks, and had spent a whole week engrossed in it. They went to the library together a lot. Steve liked American classic novelists like Mark Twain and Herman Melville, while Bucky liked pulp writers like Raymond Chandler. Bucky preferred to read the pulp magazines from the newsstand, but they were starting to get too expensive. He read all the Agatha Christie books in the library and then when he was browsing the non-fiction he found the card trick book. He was now enthralled with anything to do with card tricks.

It took him weeks to learn how to shuffle the cards with one hand. He’d sent their pack of cards flying across the room more than once. He and Steve had to scramble all over to collect them but he was pretty sure a couple were still missing. But he was determined. Once he finally got the hang of it, he bothered Steve with card tricks every night. Steve found his obsession with it amusing. He sighed exaggeratedly when Bucky asked him for the hundredth time to “Pick a card, any card.” But he always did it anyway. 

“Okay,” Bucky said, “put the card back into the pack.” Steve did as he was told. “Now… is this your card?”

“Are you ever going to tell me how you do that?” Steve said. 

“Hell no.” All he really did was flip over a couple of cards and then the whole pack while Steve was looking at the card he chose. And he fell for it every time. 

Bucky suddenly felt bad about tricking Steve. He collected all the cards and put them on the bookshelf. He knew that was the point of card tricks, and it wasn’t like Steve was upset with him, but he wondered if he would ever be able to be honest with Steve. He felt like he was always fooling him by hiding how he really felt. Which was getting stronger and stronger every day. 

They mostly spent their evenings together. Reading or playing the one board game they had. But sometimes Steve went out. Bucky thought if he had any other roommate he might be out every weekend himself, but somehow just being around Steve was better than that. 

Usually if Steve went out at night, it was after work and he just wouldn’t come home until much later. But one night when Bucky got home from work he found Steve dressed up and combing his hair in front of the mirror.

“Are you going somewhere?” Bucky asked.

“I thought I might go out for a drink,” Steve said tentatively. “Do you want to come along?”

“Me?” 

Steve nodded. A part of Bucky wanted to say yes, because why wouldn’t he want to go out for a drink with Steve? But he knew Steve meant they would go to a queer bar. And maybe that meant looking for more than a drink. What if he saw the guy from the alley? Bucky wasn’t sure he even remembered what he looked like, but maybe he would remember Bucky and try and talk to him. Or worse, what if other men wanted to talk to Steve? Then Steve would leave him there all alone. He couldn’t watch Steve leave without him. 

He shook his head and thought there was a fleeting look of disappointment on Steve’s face that he quickly masked. “Well, if you change your mind… I’ll be at the bar where we first met.” He stared right into Bucky’s eyes and Bucky had to look away.

“I’ll probably just have an early night.”

Steve didn’t come home until after midnight. Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep, though he had all the lights off and pretended he was when Steve came in the door. He listened to him get ready for bed in the dark. Tiptoeing around and banging into the edge of the bed. There was no movement for a moment as Steve waited to see if he’d awoken Bucky, then he collected his towel and headed back out again to the bathroom down the hall. 

He hoped Steve hadn’t had a great night. It was unkind, but he was afraid every night Steve went out on his own he would find someone to spend more than one night with. He would leave Bucky all alone with nothing but his stupid card tricks.

♣

On Bucky’s birthday, they went to his parents place for dinner, and after that, they went to the movies. Since it was Bucky’s birthday Steve insisted he choose the movie, even though Bucky said he didn’t mind what they saw. So they ended up seeing _Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man_ which Bucky thought was pretty silly. Steve was scared, even though when they came out of the theatre he denied it.

They were still arguing about it when they got home. “He didn’t even have a scary transformation,” Bucky said. 

“For the last time, Bucky. I wasn’t scared.” He slumped onto the couch and gave Bucky a peeved look.

Bucky sat down beside him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

Steve shoved his arm half-heartedly. Bucky laughed and shoved him back. They pushed each other back and forth, moving into each other’s space until there was nothing between them. Bucky was leaning back against the couch, with Steve twisted towards him, his knee pressing into Bucky’s thigh. Their faces were merely inches apart. “I really feel like kissing someone right now,” Bucky said. His stomach erupted into butterflies as soon as he said it.

Steve pushed away, separating them. “Bucky. Remember what happened last time. You got all weird.”

They hadn’t actually kissed the last time, but Bucky didn’t say so. “I think you mean you got all weird.” Steve gave him an unimpressed look. “Okay, fine. We both got all weird. But I promise I won’t this time.”

“You’re already acting like I’ve agreed to this,” Steve said. He looked at Bucky thoughtfully. “I guess it is your birthday.” He leaned over and tenderly pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Bucky grabbed his arm, holding him in place as he lifted his head from the couch, pressing his lips harder into Steve’s. Not only had they not kissed the last time, but Bucky realised the only other time they’d actually kissed was when they first met. 

Steve brought his hands up to Bucky’s jaw, cradling his face as he poked his tongue at Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth, allowing Steve entrance and also freeing a moan. Steve moved closer, then suddenly flung a leg over Bucky’s and climbed right into his lap. Bucky made a surprised noise in the back of his throat but refused to part his lips from Steve’s. 

Bucky grew hard from being pressed so close to Steve. Steve thrust forward and Bucky had to stop kissing him for a moment to pant with pleasure. _I want you. I want you. I want you,_ he thought. 

Steve stopped grinding his hips. “Come on,” he growled. He pushed himself away from Bucky but didn’t lose contact. His hand slid down Bucky’s arm until it reached his hand, which he grasped and pulled so Bucky would follow him. Bucky almost tripped as they made their way into the bedroom. His legs felt like jello. 

Steve pushed Bucky down onto his bed and climbed back into his lap, but he only gave him one more kiss on the lips before moving to his neck. He unbuttoned Bucky’s shirt and kissed each inch of skin he revealed as he did so. When Bucky’s undershirt got in the way, he finished unbuttoning the shirt, then undid his belt buckle, untucked his shirts, and moved down to kiss Bucky’s stomach, just above the waist of his trousers. He paused and looked up. “Promise this won’t make things weird,” he said.

“I promise.” Bucky was pretty sure he would have agreed to just about anything at that point. 

Steve wriggled down further and undid Bucky’s slacks. “Lift up,” he said, tapping Bucky’s hip. Bucky lifted his ass off the bed and Steve swiftly pulled the slacks and underwear down, revealing Bucky’s erection. He leaned down and closed his mouth around it. Bucky closed his eyes, gasping. The wet heat of Steve’s mouth was exquisite. 

“Fuck,” he said as Steve bobbed up and down. “Fuck.”

Steve pulled away and Bucky looked down in confusion. “Why’d you stop?”

Steve smiled and shook his head. He got off the bed and shed his clothes. Bucky quickly sat up and wriggled out of his own shirt. He watched Steve walk over to the dresser and reach deep into the back of his top drawer, his hand emerging with a tin of Vaseline. He got back onto the bed, but facing away from Bucky. He took the lid off the Vaseline, handed it to Bucky, and got onto all fours. 

Bucky’s eyes widened and he almost lost his grip on the tin, but managed to get it open. He dug his fingers into the jelly and reached towards Steve’s ass. Steve pushed back and Bucky curled all but his index finger, and tentatively pointed it at Steve’s entrance, and didn’t stop when he reached it. He slowly pushed inside. When he was all the way in, Steve moved his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Bucky’s finger. Bucky started pushing his next finger in and Steve moaned. “Yes,” he said. Bucky moaned too. Just the sight of Steve had him so riled up he worried he would come before he was even inside. 

When Steve seemed to think Bucky had sufficiently opened him he turned around and pushed Bucky onto his back again. He straddled Bucky and reached behind him to find Bucky’s dick and guide it to his entrance. He pushed down onto him slowly. Bucky gripped his waist and breathed deeply, trying to remain calm, but God it felt good. Steve pressed his hands into Bucky’s chest, while he leveraged himself up and down a few times, then he settled fully into Bucky’s lap and rode back and forth. His slim form hollowed at his waist as he moved. Bucky vaguely thought Steve was looking too skinny and made a mental note to make him eat more. 

His eyes moved back up to Steve’s face to watch the way his eyelids fluttered. The way his jaw clenched and relaxed. The way his cheeks blushed. _I want you. I want you. I want you._

Bucky readjusted his thighs so they fell open and Steve’s feet slipped underneath them. Bucky lifted his knees so that Steve fell forward a bit. He steadied himself with his hands on Bucky’s chest and continued bouncing himself on Bucky’s dick. Bucky moaned and had to close his eyes for a moment because seeing Steve like this had him at the brink of ecstasy. 

Steve leaned down to kiss Bucky again, pushing his dick along Bucky’s stomach as he did so and moaning into his mouth. Bucky didn’t know which part of his body felt the most pleasure. His dick, or his lips and his tongue. He kissed Steve back, breathing hard through his nose. Steve pulled back, panting. Both of them gasped for air. Bucky’s body tingled from his lips, and his toes. The sensation moving along his body towards his centre. Towards Steve. 

He was having a hard time keeping his legs still. He grasped Steve’s thigh and thrust his hips up. He couldn’t help it. His hand moved from Steve’s thigh to his wrap around his dick and Steve thrust into his fist. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. He clenched around Bucky’s dick, his body seizing even after he’d spurted across Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky thrust up as he felt himself getting closer and closer. Steve reached behind him to grab Bucky’s thighs, still whimpering as he pressed back down, meeting Bucky’s every thrust. 

“God, I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, come on,” Steve gasped.

Bucky moved his hand around to grab Steve’s ass, helping him up and down. His fingers grazed his own dick before it slipped back up into Steve’s body and he wished he could see it. He moved his fingers closer, and touching Steve there, and feeling himself pushing inside, was enough to send him over the edge.

He lay with his heart pounding as Steve extracted himself and lay down beside him. His eyes closed and an immediate drowsiness came over him. Steve was whispering something but Bucky didn’t really hear. He was almost asleep.

♣

It had been weeks, but Bucky thought about what had happened with Steve on his birthday a lot. When he’d awoken that morning Steve was gone from the bed. The high from the night before was gone too and he almost wished it hadn’t happened. Because it had been too good.

He’d met Steve coming out of the bathroom as he was going in. They’d exchanged good mornings and things went back to normal. They never talked about it. Like it had never happened. Except Bucky had the vivid memory of it. He would think about it at night as he listened to Steve’s light breathing across the room and then he would have to jerk off. He felt like he’d been in a daze ever since. 

He dawdled on his way to work. The days had started warming up, and that morning had a sense of relief about it, that always came with the last remnants of winter. He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back to let the sun sink into his skin. He was knocked out of his trance when someone walked into the back of him and then grumbled about him stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. 

He listened to Thomas’ wedding plans at lunch without really taking it in, though he vaguely felt like he should be making more of an effort after what had happened. Thomas didn’t seem to notice though, he was too in his own head, worrying about how much it was all going to cost. It seemed like the day was going slowly, but it went by without Bucky really remembering anything he did. 

He’d been starting to think about what he could do other than working for Macy’s. He was grateful for the job, but he wondered what else he could do instead. He thought he could do a lot more things now with one arm. His job had actually helped him a lot with that, because it was tactile and he’d had to come up with alternative solutions for doing certain things. He had a lot more strength in his arm now too. But he was starting to think about the future and not just how he could afford rent and food. He hoped the war would end soon so things wouldn’t get any worse, but he also worried about the stability of his current job or if he’d be able to find anything else once the men came back from fighting. He never talked about that with Steve because they never talked about the war. But he also wondered if Steve would think he was being selfish if he voiced those thoughts. 

More than once while he was at work, performing menial tasks where his mind could wander, he’d let himself fantasise about moving to California with Steve, and what Bucky might do for work there. It was a ridiculous notion, but it wasn’t as if anybody would ever find out, so he didn’t scold himself too much for thinking about it. He just told himself it was the good weather that got him dreaming about the west coast. 

He wasn’t in any hurry to get home that night, the air was cool but pleasant. As he walked from the bus stop a pretty girl came walking his way. Instead of simply smiling or nodding his head, or even ignoring her completely, he spoke to her.

“Good evening,” he said.

She smiled. “Good evening.” She had a slight accent. Polish perhaps. 

“Do you need help with those?” he said, pointing to her groceries.

“Oh. Yes, please.” She handed him one of the bags and he followed her down the street, in the opposite direction from his apartment. They walked several blocks, without speaking, until they reached a rundown apartment building and he followed her up some rickety stairs.

She unlocked the door and they went inside. Bucky placed the groceries on the table and turned to leave. “Well, have a good night,” he said.

“Wait.” She reached out to him. “Why don’t you stay for a drink? It’s the least I can do. You can hang your coat up there.” She pointed to a nail on the back of the door.

“All right,” Bucky said. Up close and in the light of her apartment, he could see she was not what he should have considered a girl, but a woman. She was older than him, not that it made her less beautiful, but she had the lines on her forehead that showed signs of a hard life. She had blonde hair, pinned back off her face and it looked like it had been squashed down a little at the top, like she’d been wearing a bandana all day but took it off when she went home. Her lipstick was worn off a little so it was brighter around the edge of her mouth. She looked tired. 

She moved the bags off the table and replaced them with two glasses and a bottle of vodka. Bucky sat down as she poured their drinks. She sat down too and handed him a glass. He took a sip and coughed a little at how strong it was. He wasn’t used to drinking vodka. 

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Go on,” she said. “You’ve been at work all day, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I bet you’re hungry.”

He looked around her cramped apartment. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

He felt guilty about eating her food, but his stomach growled and it would be rude to say no, wouldn’t it? “Okay, thanks very much.”

She smiled and stood up to rustle through her groceries. He thought about Steve at home, maybe wondering where he was. A part of him hoped Steve would feel abandoned. The way he often did in the reverse situation.

“Where do you work?” she asked as she mixed ingredients into a bowl.

“Macy’s. In the stockroom.”

“Macy’s! That’s so fancy.”

“In the stockroom,” he repeated. “What about you?”

“Factory.”

“Oh.” There was a tingling in his left shoulder. “What kind of factory?”

“Making uniforms.”

“Army uniforms?”

“Navy.” He realised he was rubbing his shoulder and stopped. When he didn’t respond, she kept talking. “It’s a job,” she said. “They’re hard for women like me to find.”

“What do you mean? Immigrant women?”

“Immigrant women. Not so young women.” She laughed but there was a bitter edge to it. 

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked.

“Halina.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

She smiled and looked down to where she was pouring the ingredients into a pan. It smelled wonderful. “Thank you.”

They talked as she cooked. She told him about how she had moved to America eighteen years ago with her older sister, who had since married and now lived in Virginia with her husband and three children. “Do you visit her often?” Bucky asked.

“Sometimes,” she said, which he took to mean very rarely.

She placed a plate of potato pancakes with mushroom sauce in front of him and he ate with relish. “This is really good,” he said, his mouth still full. 

She laughed and poured more vodka into his glass. By the time they had eaten, there was a lot less vodka in the bottle and Bucky felt a little tipsy. He thought she was too because she laughed at everything he said and her cheeks were rosy. 

“You’re a dish,” he said. 

She giggled. “You’re not so bad either. Quite handsome.”

He bit his lip so that he wouldn’t argue or make an awkward joke about his arm. He took a big swig of his drink. He could feel her watching him. She leaned over and whispered. “Come to bed with me.”

He glanced at her small bed in the corner of the room and his dick stirred. “Okay.”

She stood up and offered her hand out. Bucky took it and she led him over to the bed. She pulled the blankets back and lay down. Bucky slid into the empty space she left beside her. Enough room for him to lie on his side and lean down to kiss her. She tasted like the vodka and maybe a little garlic, but her mouth was warm and inviting, just like she was. 

He moved so he was on top of her. She opened her legs and wrapped them around him. 

“Wait.” He separated his lips from hers. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“I don’t have a rubber,” he said.

“I have some.”

He pulled away from where he’d been kissing her cheek. “You do?”

She looked embarrassed. “My old boyfriend left them here…”

Bucky froze. “What?”

“Oh,” she said when she saw the look on his face. She brought her hands up to his jaw. “Oh, no. He’s not dead, he hasn’t joined the army. He just....” She shook her head. “He’s gone.” She wriggled out from underneath him and shuffled through a tiny drawer in her dressing table.

Bucky was starting to wonder if this was a bad idea but she slipped back into the bed beside him, holding the small tin of rubbers, and it felt so nice when she kissed him, and when she reached between his legs to rub him through his slacks his dick obediently came to full attention. 

He sat up and took his shirt off. He glanced at her, and maybe she tried a little too hard to not look at what was left of his arm, but he appreciated she could tell he was sensitive about it. He felt like he needed that. For someone other than Steve to be comfortable with going to bed with him, the way he was now. 

They both gasped when he entered her responsive, soft body. Her scent was unique, yet familiar, and he slipped his arm under her head and buried his face into her shoulder, breathing deep as he thrust into her. She held him close with her legs wrapped around him, moving her own hips to meet his. Her legs tightened as she made a high pitched whine into his ear and he felt her shaking underneath him. He moaned and snapped his hips faster, until they froze as he came. 

Halina snuggled up to him and fell asleep when it was over, her soft skin pressed against his, and at first he held her close, enjoying it. But then she began to feel heavy on his arm. It had been wonderful, but it hadn’t made him forget about his interest in men. He knew he couldn’t pretend that other part of him didn’t exist now. Like he always had before he’d met Steve. He laid beside her, staring out the window, and wondered what Steve was doing. 

He briefly considered rolling over and falling asleep. Maybe Halina would want him to still be there in the morning, and maybe he wouldn’t mind that. But he knew he’d be kidding himself if he didn’t acknowledge that Steve was who he really wanted. Maybe that thought should’ve terrified him more. That he was willing to give up possibility of being with Halina for Steve, who he was pretty sure didn’t want him back the same way at all. But the simple fact was, he was willing to live with that.

He quietly slipped out of the bed and pulled his shirt on. 

“Are you going?”

He jumped, not realising she’d woken up. He turned to find her watching him. He looked away and pulled his slacks up his legs. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t be silly.” 

He stood up and tucked in his shirt before buckling his belt. Then he sat down and turned to her. She sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. “I would stay if…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

“You’re married aren’t you?” she said.

“No! No, not married but—”

“There’s someone else?” He didn’t respond. “Someone you wish you were married to.”

“I guess so,” he said, looking down and playing with a piece of wool that was unraveling from the blanket he was sitting on. 

She sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen. I really would stay if it weren’t for…”

She laughed. “Neither did I.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I didn’t think you were my soulmate.”

She sounded sad though, and it worried him. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I hope you get what you want.” He couldn’t believe how kind of her it was to say so. She sounded like she really meant it. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. 

He stopped at the door and turned to say. “You too. I hope you find your soulmate.” He took his coat and scarf from the hook and slipped out the door. He wrapped his scarf around his neck as he walked back home. It was the one Steve had given him for Christmas. It was getting a bit warm for it now, but he’d been wearing it every day since he got it. Putting it on before he left in the mornings was part of his routine. 

As he walked up the stairs to his apartment he saw Mrs. Flanagan outside, leaning over the railing and smoking a cigarette. He couldn’t avoid her as he normally did because he had to walk right past her to get to his door. She turned when he approached and smiled at him. “Bucky,” she said. “What are you doing out so late? Have a cigarette with me.”

“I really should get to bed, Mrs. Flanagan.”

“I told you to call me Colleen.” She stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“All right, Colleen,” he said, a little more harshly than he should have. He lit a cigarette and stood stiffly beside her. 

She leaned on the railing again. “I saw Steve come home a few hours ago,” she said. “I’m sure he’s all wrapped up in his bed now. You should be too.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Well, I _was_ on my way,” he said. 

She just laughed. “Steve’s a wonderful young man.” She said it as if she was teaching him something. Like he didn’t already know that. And he’d thought she didn’t like Steve very much, but maybe there had been other times Steve had come to her rescue that Bucky didn’t know about. He’d told Steve not to talk to him about joining the army, but he suspected Steve didn’t tell him about all the fights he got into either. He wished he and Steve could talk about anything. He wished he could confess to Steve how much he wanted him. 

“I’m aware of that,” he said.

She turned to study him. “Good.” It seemed to Bucky like she wanted to obfuscate the meaning of everything she said. He wished people wouldn’t do that, but realised he was just as guilty. “Well, off you go then,” she said, waving him away. 

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

All the lights were out in their apartment. Bucky was so tired he couldn’t be bothered heading down the hall for a shower. He didn’t want to disturb Steve either so he lay down on the couch and stared into the dark room.

He thought about moving back home. That would make things easier, but he rejected the idea pretty quickly. He was happy living with Steve, even if their relationship wasn’t as intimate as he wanted, it was worth it. He could live with the way things were. They spent so much of their time together. They lived together. They were friends. And there was always a chance Steve would want to fool around with him. Maybe it didn’t matter if he never told Steve about his feelings for him. He told himself what he had was enough, rolled over, and went to sleep.

♣

Steve’d had a mild cold or two over winter but it was spring when he got really sick. It started as a regular cold and he still went to work as usual, but that night he had a coughing fit that had him to point the of retching. Bucky led him to bed and helped him into his pajamas.

“Stay away from me,” Steve said, turning away from Bucky’s fussing. “I’m contagious.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re a real Mary Mallon,” Bucky said.

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

“If I get sick, I get sick,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Now get into bed.”

Steve climbed under his covers and Bucky pulled them up to his chin. “I told you I was bad at accepting help,” he mumbled.

Bucky laughed. “Just go to sleep, punk.” 

Bucky didn’t sleep well. It wasn’t because of the usual reason—nightmares—it was because Steve’s rattling breaths kept him awake. When he got up, Steve didn’t seem to be too sick, he got himself out of bed and went down to the bathroom, but when he got back he looked exhausted. Bucky told him he should go back to bed and he didn’t argue. 

When he got to work he phoned the grocery store to let them know why Steve wouldn’t be working that day and then he rang Steve’s doctor to arrange for him to make a house call. 

He spent all day watching the clock and ran to the bus stop as soon as his shift was over, not that it made the bus arrive any earlier. When he finally got home he raced into the bedroom and abruptly stopped when he saw Steve, sitting in bed with his bathrobe on and smoking a cigarette.

“What did the doctor say?” he asked. 

“Bronchitis.”

“Why are you smoking?” He crossed the room to open a window, letting out the smoky air.

“They’re asthma cigarettes. Doctor Larson gave them to me.”

Bucky gave Steve a dubious look. “Now, I ain’t a doctor but that doesn’t sound right to me.”

“You smoke.”

“I don’t have asthma.”

“But they’re asthma cigarettes.”

“Well, are they helping?”

Steve looked at the cigarette in his hand. He breathed out, to test how bad his wheezing was. “Maybe?”

Bucky sat down on the side of Steve’s bed. “Just promise me you won’t smoke them unless you really feel like you need ‘em?”

Steve smiled. “I promise… Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could get me some chamomile tea? My ma used to give it to me sometimes and I was looking at the little book you gave me about the rabbit. It’s silly, but his ma gave it to him when he was sick too. It just reminded me of her and—”

“I’ll go get it now,” Bucky said, standing up.

“The store’ll be closing.”

“How about some soup then?”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Bucky heated up a can of soup and then poured it into two mugs. He put them on a tray and carefully took it back into the bedroom. “Shove over,” he said when he reached the side of Steve’s bed. 

Steve shuffled over. Bucky had a secure hold on the tray and cautiously settled it onto his lap once he’d sat down. He handed Steve one of the mugs. Then he picked up his own and sat back against the pillow. Steve drank his soup slowly as they talked about their days—well, mostly Bucky’s day, and then about the books they were reading. They were sitting so close that Bucky didn’t really notice when Steve rested his head on his shoulder. But when he didn’t answer a question Bucky had asked he looked down to see him asleep. He took the empty mug from his hand, put it on the tray, and put the tray on the bedside table. 

He let his own head fall to the side so it rested atop Steve’s. He felt like he could stay that way forever, but after a while Steve turned his back on Bucky and shuffled down further into the bed. Bucky knew he should probably get up and go to his own bed, but he didn’t. He shuffled down too and turned towards the back of Steve’s head. He pulled the blankets up over Steve’s shoulders and rubbed them gently to warm him up a bit. He rubbed his foot against Steve’s. Against the pilling brown socks Bucky knew he always wore to bed when his feet were cold. 

Steve made a sighing sound. Bucky’s eyes started drooping but he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep. He stayed like that for an hour at least, before getting up and moving to his own ice cold sheets.

♣

Bucky raced home from the bus stop and as soon as he was in the door, Steve—who was still home sick, but getting much better—pointed to a box with a big red star on the side of it. “That was delivered for you today.”

“Yes!” Bucky said and knelt down beside it to open it. He’d asked Joe, one of the delivery men at work, to drop it off for him.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“A radio.”

Steve looked excited, and worried. “Wasn’t it expensive?” 

Steve had told Bucky how his ma had used to have one but it broke and Steve had never been able to afford a new one. Bucky’s parents had one of course, but he hadn’t been able to afford his own until now either. He’d been saving up. “Not really. Besides, this is a necessity.”

“We’ve done all right without one,” Steve said. But he was smiling.

Bucky set it up and turned it on right away. They listened as they made and ate their dinner. “Eat up,” Bucky said, remembering how he’d promised himself he would get Steve to eat more. Steve had lost weight in the last few days. Bucky leaned over, and with his fork he pushed an especially fatty piece of bacon on Steve’s plate closer to him.

“I still don’t have much of an appetite, Buck.” But he dutifully took another bite. 

Bucky still ended up eating Steve’s leftovers when he said he couldn’t eat another thing. He sent Steve to the couch while he did the dishes and Steve settled down, as always, with his sketchbook. 

“I’ll make some tea,” Bucky said.

“The chamomile?”

“Yep.”

Bucky filled up a big mug of tea for Steve and took it over to him before getting his own and then sitting down with Steve on the couch. “What are you drawing?”

Steve turned the page to show Bucky the sketch. “It’s those chipmunks we saw in that Walt Disney short the other day. You know, the one with Pluto at boot camp?”

“Oh yeah. Cute.” He leaned closer. “That one’s you, and that one’s me.”

Steve laughed. “Why?”

Bucky laughed too. “I don’t know, I just think that one looks more like you.”

Steve peered at it. “It’s a chipmunk.”

“A very Steve-ish chipmunk.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re weird.”

They sipped their tea and listened to a soap. Bucky looked at Steve from the corner of his eye. Even though his cheeks were a little more hollow than usual. His hair a little more limp, his complexion a little more pale. In the soft glow of the lamplight he was still the most desirable person Bucky had ever seen. 

After the soap, a song by Harry James came on and Bucky kept thinking back to that night when they’d danced together without any music. He wished he had the nerve to ask Steve to dance with him now.

He stretched his leg out and tried to ignore how close it was to Steve’s. He could almost feel the warmth from Steve but knew that was probably his imagination. He finished his tea and felt himself dozing off.

He didn’t have a single nightmare. 

When he woke up on the couch, there was a blanket over him that Steve must have put there. “Steve?” he called out, but there wasn’t a response. He stretched his arms and stumbled over to the table. On it, there was a picture of their kitchen table, but with two chipmunks sitting at it and drinking coffee and while they read the newspaper. There were acorns on their breakfast plates. Beside it was a note: _Gone to work today. Coffee on the stove_.

Bucky’s eyes moved back over the drawing and he smiled. He took it into the bedroom and pinned it up by his bed with the cards Steve had drawn him. He had told Steve he’d pinned the cards up because they were a one of a kind Steve Rogers and he didn’t want to lose them because they would be worth a lot one day. He believed that to be true, but the real reason he had them up was because Steve had drawn them especially for him, and that made him feel good. 

He stared at the little chipmunks. He wished life could be that simple for him.

♣

Steve didn’t have to work on Flag Day so when Bucky got home he found him lounging on the couch in his undershirt reading a book. “Get cleaned up,” Bucky said.

Steve peered over the edge of the book. “Why?”

Bucky threw Steve the paper he’d swiped from the lunchroom at work. It knocked the edge of Steve’s book and fell onto his lap. Steve picked it up and read, “World Exposition of Tomorrow.” 

“Yup,” Bucky said, “and we’re going.”

“Aw, Bucky. It’s in Queens.”

Bucky stuck his head out from the bedroom where he was changing his shirt. “Please?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Wow,” Bucky said when they entered the fair. “Look! A monorail.” He grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him over to line up for a ride on it. They had to wait a while, but it was worth it because the by the time they were on it the sun had set and they could admire the lights from the attractions below them, and some fireworks were even being let off.

After that, they got some popcorn and split a bottle of Coca Cola while they wandered around the pavilion admiring the gadgets and watching invention demonstrations. Bucky noticed a large crowd forming and pulled Steve over to where Howard Stark was up on stage with a fancy looking automobile. Bucky wondered how they’d got it up there. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all.”

“Like we’ll ever even _have_ an automobile,” Bucky said, nudging Steve with his elbow.

Howard Stark instructed some girls to remove the wheels from the car and Bucky raised his eyebrow. Stark fiddled with some levers and the car started lifting off the floor of the stage. “Holy cow,” Bucky said and looked at Steve, who looked just a surprised. But it had only been in the air a few seconds when sparks started flying and it came crashing back down to the stage. Bucky laughed. “I knew it was too good to be true. Not that we could ever afford anything like that anyway, right Steve?” He turned to look at him but Steve wasn’t there any more. He searched the crowd around him but everyone was still laughing and talking, and he couldn’t see Steve anywhere. He pushed himself out of the crowd frantically. 

He noticed the recruitment centre immediately and knew that’s where Steve would be. As soon as he walked in he saw him right there. “Hey.” Steve jumped and turned around. “You’re really gonna to do this again?” Bucky said. Before Steve could say anything, Bucky grabbed his arm. “Please, Steve. Don’t.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue. Bucky glanced at an elderly man watching them. Steve was for sure going to be caught this time. Or worse, they would actually take him. “Please,” he begged.

Steve looked at the ground. “Fine.”

Bucky put his arm around Steve’s shoulder and squeezed, not letting go until they were at least fifty yards away. He shook him playfully before letting him go. He wished he didn’t have to. Bucky didn’t feel much like being there anymore. He could see Steve wasn’t in a good mood either. He regretted dragging him out. “Wanna go home?”

“Yeah.”

The bus from Queens didn’t stop anywhere near their apartment, so they had a twenty minute walk to get back once they were off the bus. Steve seemed down, and wasn’t responding to Bucky’s rambling about the flying car, so Bucky gave up after a while and they walked in silence. 

As they approached an alleyway, they heard strange noises. It sounded like a fight, and before Bucky could stop him, Steve darted into the alley to aid whoever was on the losing side. Bucky ran after him, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks. There were two men, but they weren’t fighting. They were fucking. It was dark, but not dark enough that he couldn’t see what was happening. Light shone from the windows above them. The sight sent a tingle straight to his dick and he couldn’t help but stare.

Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him away. They hurried along the street, only falling back to a normal pace when they were on the next block. “Sorry,” Steve said awkwardly. “I thought someone was being beaten.”

“Well,” Bucky said. “I guess this should be a lesson to you to mind your own damn business every one and a while.” He nudged Steve playfully.

Steve shoved him back and laughed. 

They were quiet the rest of the way home. Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about the two men. The image was imprinted in his brain. He didn’t know why, but he’d always assumed when it was two men that the smaller one had to be the one being fucked. The man he saw wasn’t a little guy like Steve. But he was definitely smaller than the other man, who would’ve probably been over six foot, if he’d been standing at full height. But he hadn’t been. He’d been leaning over, his arms braced against the wall, the other man gripping his hips and thrusting in and out with abandon.

Bucky tried readjusting his slacks, but he was half hard and couldn’t make it go away. He desperately grasped at other topics to think about. Work. The blocked toilets at work the other day. The war. That did it finally. But when they were back home the image of the two men returned to him.

Steve put the kettle on to make coffee and Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter beside him. If he was going to bring it up, this was probably the worst time, given Steve’s temperament, but he started speaking anyway. 

“What does… that feel like?”

“What does what feel like,” Steve said without looking up.

“To, you know, to be…” Steve still wasn’t looking at him, just watching the kettle. “Fucked.”

Steve’s head whipped to the side. “Bucky!”

Bucky laughed nervously. “What? We’re alone. No one can hear. I want to know. You know that I haven’t… with anyone else.” He didn’t know why he was saying any of this. He guessed he was just in a randy mood. 

Steve moved the kettle off the stove. “No one?”

Bucky didn’t think the suckjob from the the guy at the bar counted in this conversation. Not that he’d ever told Steve about that. He shook his head. “You were the first. Guy, I mean. And it’s not like I was dumb enough to try anything with anyone in the army. There was no time anyway. And then I was back and I had this.” He pointed to what was left of his left arm. 

“Bucky, there are people who would still be interested in you. You’re handsome and charming and smart. But…”

Bucky frowned. “But what?”

“Well, do you really want to know? Because I thought you were looking for a girl.”

Bucky’s eyes dropped to Steve’s tie so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I think… I do like men. I think I like both. Is that not a thing?”

“Of course it’s a thing. You can like both.”

He glanced at Steve’s face again. “Do you like both?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, but I think I like men more.” He got two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Oh,” Bucky said. “So what does it feel like then?”

Steve sighed. “It feels good.”

His dick twitched. “But how?”

“I don’t know. I can’t describe it, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“Maybe...” He stared at Steve who looked to him, waiting to hear the rest of his sentence. Then understanding dawned on his face. And he looked like he was considering it. 

Bucky already felt himself backing out. Was he tricking Steve into it somehow? He surely wanted this more than Steve did, which made him feel like he shouldn’t be asking.

“Okay,” Steve said.

Bucky’s eyebrows jumped up. “Really? If you really don’t want to, just say.”

“Come on,” Steve said. He abandoned the coffee he was making and walked to the bedroom. Bucky followed and was surprised he could even put one foot in front of the other. 

Steve made sure the curtains were drawn, then turned to him. “Your bed?”

Bucky nodded. Steve didn’t say anything about how Bucky had suddenly gone quiet, he just reached up and started undoing Bucky’s tie. Bucky let him. He body was already alight from such a delicate touch. He didn’t know how he was going to handle having Steve inside him.

Once they were undressed, Bucky tentatively leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth. “You still want to do this?” he asked.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, lie back on the bed.” Bucky did as he was instructed and watched Steve collect his tub of Vaseline. When he was in front of Bucky again, he said, “Um, open your legs a bit.” Bucky did. 

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m going to start.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes when he felt Steve’s cold fingers trace around his entrance. The tip of Steve’s finger slipped inside and he’d been expecting it to hurt, but it didn’t. He opened his eyes and looked at Steve. He looked like he was concentrating hard. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth like it sometimes did when he was really focusing in one of his drawings. Bucky liked that. He felt Steve’s finger press in further, but still he felt no pain. A bit strange, but in more of a good way than bad. Steve was slowly easing him into it. Almost too slowly. 

“I think you can add another one,” he said.

Steve looked up and smiled. “Not yet.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay, okay.”

After several minutes, he felt Steve start to push in a second finger. Bucky didn’t know why he was so surprised about how good it felt. People obviously did this for a reason. It was why he wanted to try it. He gasped when Steve’s fingers slipped in even further.

“Okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. It’s good.” 

“Good,” Steve said. “I want to do this right.”

Bucky couldn’t tell him that half the reason he was enjoying it so much was because it was _Steve_ who was touching him. “Add another one,” he said. 

When Steve finally pushed all three fingers in he touched something that sent a spark of pleasure Bucky’d never felt before down his spine. He gasped and Steve pulled his fingers out. “Are you ready?”

He looked at Steve with wide eyes, surprised at what he’d just felt, and that this was really happening. “Yes.” He turned over, planted his hand down and leaned on his left shoulder, looking back at Steve from underneath his arm. He pushed his ass back towards him. 

Steve got onto the bed and knelt behind him. He put his hand on Bucky’s back and leaned forward. Bucky felt something poke at his hole. He tried not to clench as he knew what was about to happen, but couldn’t help it.

“Relax, Buck.” He felt Steve move away and push his fingers in again.

“No,” Bucky said. “I’m ready.”

He made a noise as he felt Steve enter his body. Not quite a moan of pleasure—not yet—but he definitely liked it, and wanted Steve to know. It felt a lot bigger than the fingers, but Steve inched in so slowly it didn’t alarm him. When Steve was tightly sheathed inside, Bucky had fully adjusted to him, and he wanted more. He wanted movement. When Steve pulled out and slid back in again, Bucky’s body began to shake and he was afraid it would be over too quickly. 

“Hang on,” he said.

Steve stopped immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

“God no. It’s just. Fuck, Steve. It feels so good.”

“I know,” Steve said with a chuckle.

Bucky took some deep breaths. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Steve slowly pushed in and pulled out. Way too slowly. But Bucky didn’t complain. He didn’t want him to rush. He hadn’t known that having Steve inside his body would make him feel anything other than primal lust, but of course, it just amplified his feelings for Steve. They were as close as they could possibly be, and it was playing with his heart. He was glad Steve couldn’t see his face, because his love for him was probably written all over it. 

Steve started speeding up, not a lot, but enough to make Bucky moan. Steve’s name escaped his lips and he grabbed his pillow and pressed his face into it. The lack of oxygen somehow made it better as stars appeared behind his eyelids, but finally he had to turn his head to take a proper breath. “Harder,” he gasped out.

Steve pushed into him so that eventually he couldn’t hold himself up and let his hips fall to the bed. It was even better because then he felt the friction of the bed sheets beneath him. He lay flat on his belly and couldn’t help grinding down. His knees were spread and Steve lay right on top of him, his legs aligned with Bucky’s, like they were glued together. He slipped an arm underneath Bucky’s so he had something to hold onto as he thrust in and out. His face pressed between Bucky’s shoulder blades and he kissed the perspiring skin. 

Bucky lifted his head and tried to look back. “Harder,” he demanded. Then his head dropped and he bit down on the pillow and moaned, although the sound was not long and drawn out, but punctuated by each snap of Steve’s hips. He let the force of Steve’s thrusts aid his own hips as he rutted against the bed, and then he and Steve became wildly and wonderfully unsynchronised as Bucky sped up, reaching for completion. He came with a shudder and a stifled yell. 

His dick was too sensitive as it kept pressing into the now soaked sheets, but he did nothing to stop Steve’s thrusts and even tried to move with him though it was now virtually impossible with how fast Steve was going. 

“Can I..?” Steve groaned into Bucky’s ear. “Mmm.”

Bucky realised Steve was asking permission to come inside him. “Fuck. Yes,” he grunted out. 

Steve released a guttural moan. He gave one, two more deep thrusts, pushing Bucky’s hips forward with greater force, then shuddered as he came. Bucky could feel Steve’s dick pulsing inside him.

Steve lay on Bucky’s back, breathing heavily. He could feel Steve’s heart pounding, and for a split second it worried him, but Steve slipped out and lay beside him. Bucky rolled over onto his back. He turned to look at Steve and he didn’t seem to be in distress. He looked satisfied. Bucky felt wet between his legs but didn’t look. Anyway, he liked the feeling. He wasn’t ready to wash what had just happened away.

“That was... wow,” Bucky said. “Okay. You were right.”

Steve chuckled. He almost sounded shy. “I’ve never done it that way before,” he said. He was smiling lazily up at the ceiling. 

“Really? Sure felt like you knew what you were doing.”

Steve moved his shoulder in a lethargic shrug. “I guess the guys that usually go for me want to do it the other way. I mean, I’m not complaining, I like it that way. But it was nice to know what it feels like to…” He waved his hand. 

Bucky shifted, not out of physical discomfort, but because he didn’t like hearing about Steve being with other men. His fingers grasped at the sheet. He lifted his head and looked around the room. “Where are my…” He really didn’t want to get up though. He wanted to lie in bed with Steve a little while longer.

Steve sat up. “What are you looking for?”

“My cigarettes.”

“I can find them for you.”

“Nah. It doesn’t matter.” Steve lying beside him was definitely better than any cigarette.

But Steve didn’t lie down again. He was silent for a moment before saying, “If you want. We could go to one of the bars I know about. Find you someone there.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t want Steve to find him someone else. He wanted Steve. He wanted them to only be with each other and no one else. He wanted to kiss him goodbye every morning when he went to work and share a bed with him at night. He wanted to share everything with him. 

But Steve obviously didn’t feel that way. And Bucky knew his attraction to men wasn’t going to go away. If he was going to get over this thing with Steve, he had to try again with someone else, even if only briefly. Maybe eventually he could even find someone who wanted more—a real relationship, even if it had to be secret. 

“All right,” he said eventually.

“Okay. We’ll go on Saturday.” Steve climbed off the bed and put on his robe to go down the hall to the bathroom. Bucky wished he wouldn’t. 

On his way to the door Steve picked Bucky’s slacks up off the floor and fished in the pockets, pulling out his cigarettes. He tossed them at Bucky, who reached out to catch them. “Nice arm,” he said. Steve had almost thrown them too hard. His hand stung a bit.

♣

He was jittery all week about their upcoming visit to the bar. He imagined a million different scenarios that made him think it was a bad idea. What if none of the men there even wanted to talk, or do anything with Bucky? And what if they did? What would he do? What if that man from the alley was there? And of course, like he’d thought about many times before, what if Steve went home with someone else and Bucky was left by himself? That would be the thing he would hate the most. But he knew it was a real possibility, and decided he would just have to find someone for himself if it did happen. Because that was the whole reason they were going, wasn’t it?

When they walked down the stairs and into the bar, Bucky noticed there were less people there than the last time he’d visited. He knew that meant many of them were now in the military. He felt a stab of pain about that. 

A few men turned their heads as he apparoached the bar. He stared at the dirty floor. They found two stools to sit at. “I’ll get the first round,” he said, and asked the barman for a couple of beers.

He knew he was supposed to be there to meet other men, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them in the eye. He downed his beer quickly, then excused himself to the bathroom. When he came back there was a big burly man talking to Steve. Bucky frowned. He sat back down next to Steve without saying anything and ordered another beer, which he then stared into as he listened to their conversation. The guy was talking about his work in the navy shipyard, which Steve listened to politely, but Bucky thought the guy had an overly important opinion of himself. 

“Hey, do you want to go somewhere private?” the man asked Steve.

“Oh, um, well I just got this drink,” Steve said. Bucky’s eyes strained to see him without moving his head.

“When you’re done then.”

Steve laughed nervously and took a sip of his virtually untouched beer. 

“Come on, you’re not going to drink it that slowly, are ya?” the guy said. Maybe he was joking around, but Bucky didn’t like his tone.

“Maybe he’s just not interested,” Bucky said, finally turning towards the man.

“Bucky,” Steve said in a warning voice.

“What did you say?” The man stood up and puffed his chest out. Bucky stood up too.

“Bucky, sit down,” Steve said.

“You know this guy?” the man asked disdainfully.

Steve frowned. “Yes. He’s my friend.”

“Your friend needs to mind his own business.”

Steve’s face hardened, and Bucky, encouraged by this, stepped forward and pushed the man’s chest. “Why don’t you make me.”

The man lunged at Bucky, but he was quick, and avoided his lumbering aim. He clenched his palm into a fist and raised it. “Bucky!” Steve was off his stool now too. He pulled at Bucky’s arm. “Stop it.”

The man turned and flinched in expectancy of a blow, but Bucky looked back at Steve who was staring at him with wide eyes. He dropped his arm. “Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought—I’m sorry.”

He shook Steve off and ran up the stairs. He didn’t expect Steve to follow him, but when he reached the fresh air and fumbled with his cigarettes, Steve was standing right there. Bucky angrily lit a cigarette and kept walking. When they were far enough away, Bucky stopped. “Why are you following me? Go back and have fun.”

“Is that really what you want me to do?” Steve asked.

Bucky paused. “No.” Steve didn’t say anything, just stared at Bucky expectantly. He supposed he owed Steve an explanation. “I mean, of course I want you to have a good time, it’s just…”

“You want it to be with you?” Steve said. Bucky thought he sounded almost hopeful.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said.

“I want that too.”

His heart sped up. “But—”

Steve held up his hand. “No. I want you, Bucky. Ever since the first moment I saw you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night we had together. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again. I thought maybe you would want to…” He hung his head and looked at the ground. “But I wasn’t sure if you were ready for anything more than, you know. What we’ve been doing. I still don’t know if you are.” He looked up again, staring into Bucky’s eyes. Searching them. 

Bucky wanted to look away, but he didn’t. He stared back. “I know I’m not the guy I was when you met me.”

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t know that guy. I know you. You’re the one I want. I love you.”

Bucky never thought he would hear Steve say that. But he said it with pure earnestness. No hesitation. No shame. It took Bucky’s breath away. “God. I love you too,” he exhaled. It was such a relief to say it. He felt like he was letting go of a lot more than that secret when he said it. 

Steve smiled. “Let’s go home.”

It was torturous to walk home with Steve beside him without being able to touch him. Steve spoke quietly, obviously unable to wait until they got back to their apartment. “I thought you only wanted to be friends that sometimes did stuff together, but you were really looking for a girl. I couldn’t help myself when you wanted to. It was better than nothing.”

Bucky shook his head. “Steve, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I thought you didn’t want anything more than a fumble every once in a while, and I told myself I could live with that. We goofed up.”

Steve looked around before quickly reaching out and giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze. It was too quick, but it made Bucky’s hand feel warm all the way back to their apartment. Their home. Where he could be with Steve. He suddenly felt like his life was full of possibilities. He wanted to grab Steve’s hand back and run all the way home, but he settled on a brisk walk, and Steve kept up with him. 

As soon as their door was closed, Steve was on him, pushing him against the door and pushing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. It was their best kiss by far and Bucky didn’t want it to stop, but Steve dragged him into the bedroom. 

They pulled off their clothes, and Bucky laughed as Steve manhandled him onto the bed and scrambled on top of him. He silenced Bucky’s giggles with a press of his tongue, pushing it back into Bucky’s mouth and making Bucky moan with desire. He was already hard as a rock. Steve suddenly pushed away from Bucky and climbed off the bed. Bucky whined at his absence, but knew what he was doing. Steve got back onto the bed only a moment later with the Vaseline tin. 

Bucky pulled Steve on top of him again and kissed him hard. His hand roamed down Steve’s back, over the bumps of his spine, down to his butt and squeezed. Then he pushed a finger between his cheeks and rubbed it over his entrance. Steve moaned and pressed his hips down. His dick grazed Bucky’s and it sent a spark through him. 

“Me?” Steve whispered, “or, or you? You liked it, right?”

Bucky shivered. He wanted both, he wanted it all. But he also just wanted to touch Steve all over. And kiss him. “Hell yeah, I did,” he said and sucked Steve’s lower lip into his mouth. He opened his legs a little for Steve to position himself so that he could properly rub his dick against Bucky’s. Bucky was already feeling his orgasm building and didn’t think he’d last much longer.

“Steve.”

Steve looked up from where he’d been kissing Bucky’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just.” He took the tin from Steve’s hand and laid it beside them. “We can do that later.”

Steve smiled. “Okay,” he said, burying his face in Bucky’s neck, and continuing to rub against him. Bucky grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer. Steve pressed up onto his hands, smirked at Bucky, and thrust faster. Bucky snaked his hand between them and grasped him. Steve moaned loudly and easily slipped in and out of Bucky’s fist. He leaned down and kissed Bucky again, his tongue swirling around the entirety of Bucky’s mouth, leaving his lips wet. Bucky took the opportunity to clasp his own dick too, thrusting up into his hand right along with Steve.

“Steve?”

Steve moaned in response.

“Hey, Steve. Steve?”

Steve stopped and lifted his head to look at Bucky. He ran his hand over Bucky’s forehead and into his hair. “Yeah?”

“Will you be my fella?”

“I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Bucky grinned. “Say it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your fella.” He thrust forward again, and his smile turned into a wide-mouthed pant. He closed his eyes but quickly opened them again, staring down at Bucky.

Bucky stared back. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Steve gasped. Then he came, coating their stomachs, and Bucky let go too, only seconds behind. 

Steve dropped his head to Bucky’s shoulder and just lay there with his heart pounding. Bucky wrapped his arm around his back, holding him in place. Never letting go. They were a complete mess, and after a while, when Steve’s breath had evened out, he started shifting in discomfort. Bucky let him roll off to the side, and leaned over so he could reach down and pick up a discarded undershirt from the floor to wipe them down. Steve then rested his head on Bucky’s chest but suddenly made a face and pulled away, picking up the Vaseline tin that had obviously been digging into him.

He got out of bed and Bucky’s heart sank, thinking Steve was about to turn cold on him. Maybe Steve hadn’t meant what he’d said. Or what they’d done. He watched Steve put the tin back into the drawer, then instead of turning back, his hand wandered over the top of the dresser. Over a comb, Bucky’s tube of Brylcreem, a watch. It landed on the case of Bucky’s Purple Heart. Then he quickly snatched it back. He glanced into the mirror to see Bucky watching him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can look at it if you want.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Bucky nodded. When it had arrived after several months of Bucky’s return, his ma had brought it over to the apartment for him. He’d told her he didn’t want it and that she should have it, but she’d insisted he take it. So he’d put it on the top of the dresser and that’s where it had sat ever since, collecting dust. 

Steve opened it, but only looked at it for a second. He put it back and turned to face Bucky. He leaned against the dresser shyly, even though he was still stark naked and beautiful. He came forward when Bucky beckoned him over.

He pulled Steve into his lap and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think about going over there as much any more,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky’s arm tightened around Steve’s waist. “Why’s that?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to leave here. I want to stay with you. Living with you, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been since my ma died.” 

Bucky looked up, but Steve wouldn’t turn his head. Bucky pulled him until Steve stood and got into his lap, facing Bucky. Bucky pulled him into a tight hug. He hoped it showed Steve how much he meant to him, because he couldn’t find the words to say it.

“Is that selfish of me?” Steve whispered into his ear.

“No. Steve, no. I’ve been there and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Especially not you. I don’t know what I’d do if… It’s not selfish of you to not want to be there. Trust me, no one over there wants to be there either.”

“But they still went. It’s the right thing to do.”

“But you can’t. And that’s not your fault. You don’t owe them anything when they wouldn’t take you anyway. You have the right to live your life.”

Steve tightened his arms and they stayed in that embrace for a long time. “I only… mostly when I tried enlisting again it was when living with you got too hard. Because I wanted you too much.”

It pained Bucky to think of Steve going through that. “I’m sorry.”

Steve pulled back so he could kiss him. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“I wanted you too. I wish we’d both known that.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Bucky leaned his head back slightly to see Steve’s whole face. “Steve?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah?”

“Would you leave Brooklyn if I came with you?”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking. About your drawings. I really think you could be an artist for Disney.”

Steve leaned his head to the side. “Bucky.”

“You could, Steve. You’re good.”

Steve shook his head, but looked at Bucky thoughtfully. “You really think I could?”

“Yes,” Bucky said emphatically. “And the idea of moving to Hollywood is growing on me.”

Steve laughed. “Then we could get a cat? Or a dog.”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

Steve’s fingers danced across Bucky’s clavicle. “I should probably take some more art classes first. I’ve been saving up for them.”

“You don’t need art classes.”

Steve laughed. “I just want to learn as much as I can. So I’ll be ready.”

Bucky smiled and pressed his face into Steve’s chest. “You’re an amazing artist. I wish I could draw like you. I want to capture this moment forever.” He pressed kisses into Steve’s skin.

Steve ran his hands through Bucky’s hair. “You don’t need to capture it. We’ll just keep making new moments like this.” He guided Bucky’s jaw up and kissed him. “Even better ones.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My fanfiction Tumblr](https://poppyfields13fic.tumblr.com/) and [My personal Tumblr](http://lovesdresses.tumblr.com)


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